


Is The World Strange Or Am I Strange? (Six Times Skye Met The Avengers - And One Time She Was An Avenger)

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, POV Skye, Romance, Skye has powers, Slow Build, Unresolved Sexual Tension, don't pay attention to the plot the plot is an excuse, it's a non-plot plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-14 05:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1254349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye has to deal with her superpowers.</p><p>Coulson has to deal with being around superheroes again.</p><p>The Avengers help. Except when they don't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stark

Like she's been invaded by a virus and they are making a journey or pilgrimage to find the cure Coulson takes her away from the team and they leave to get _some help_.

The virus is me, Skye thinks.

You can come back from the dead, she thinks, but you can never come back as yourself.

At first she thinks _help_ means SHIELD but it doesn't. Maybe it can never mean that again, not to Coulson. After he tells her about Tahiti and what they did to him Skye understands a lot of things. They travel west and he books two hotel rooms with Pacific views and he is coy about what they are doing here, what _help_ really means. He handles her with care. _Am I contagious?_ she thinks.

 _Help_ to Coulson means something she wasn't expecting, and isn't her life surreal now, you've got superpowers you can't control and a doctor's appointment with Iron Man.

It's sunny Malibu, it's richer soil than she's ever know, it's the impossible 1920s angles of Tony Stark's new beach house.

This is not her ideal scenario; she knows everything about Stark, of course – no, no matter what Ward said, she was never a fangirl or a cosplayer and she never got to meet the man personally, she just finds superheroes really interesting and cool. Or she used to, anyway. And Tony Stark, from the perspective of how he's lived a public life since forever and you get to follow that narrative from precocious genius to partying trainwreck to reformed savior, well, it's a pretty good story and who doesn't like a good redemption arc? Skye sure does, and over the years she's been amassing a lot of information on the man, the machine.

She had no idea Coulson knew him, though.

This is not how Skye figured out her first meeting with Iron Man would go, though (and yes, she has fantasized about it); the first time she shares a space with Tony stark he looks pissed, beyond pissed.

Okay, he looks _pissed at Coulson_ , to be exact. And this is a glacial version of how a touching reunion scene should go.

"We're not here for this," Coulson says before Stark can even start.

No, we're here because of me, Skye thinks. Entirely different thing from being here _for her_.

She's also never seen Coulson look so apologetic. It infurates her because not even for Iron Man – and okay she doesn't know the whole story, she didn't even know they were close, but she can imagine, she imagines it: one might think coming back from the dead would be a joyous occassion. It's not.

Stark paces along the length of his couch. The perfectly dressed vicepresident of Stark Industries (Skye knows this stuff) shifts her gaze from him to Coulson and back to Tony Stark again. Nobody seems to be paying any attention to Skye. She feels like she's just walked on to the stage of an off-Broadway play, mid-scene.

"Oh, yeah, you said _on the phone_ ," Stark says to Coulson, like he's just remembering. "You have a favor to ask. Ask."

Coulson explains the details of the case; they are vague and inconclusive. It's the first time Coulson uses words like _telekinesis_ and Skye has to do a double take. She hides inside her body, hugs herself and hopes to disappear from the scene. She's impressed, of course she is –Tony fucking Stark, you understand– and not ready for this kind of scrutiny. Fortunately Stark has his eyes on Coulson the whole time, something impatient and vicious in them.

"Come on, _Agent_ , there's no such thing as telekinesis," he says quietly.

"That's what everybody said," Skye says. "That's what they kept telling me. And now look, ha! I'd say _I told you so_ if I wasn't so terrified."

It's the first non-neutral glance she gets from Coulson in days. It should be a lot more supportive than it is, he is much better at this, she knows. Stark looks at her like he is surprised to find her in her house, like she's a thief and he's about to call the police.

"I'm sure SHIELD has the best facilities," Stark snorts. "In fact, you guys proved you're even more advanced than me – in certain, particular areas, right?"

Because she's behind him Skye can see the slight shift on Coulson's spine as the muscles in his back tense.

"I'd rather not inform SHIELD about the situation at the moment," he explains. "Certain events have come to light – suggesting it might not be safe for everyone to know about this."

 _About this_ meaning about Skye.

Tony Stark makes a perverse curve with his lips as Coulson explains her origins, goes back to the beginning of the story; Stark might not be an agent but it sure as hell looks like he knows what 084 means.

"So you need me to keep a secret from SHIELD? To quote the timeless poet: Isn't it ironic? Don't you think?"

"I didn't come all the way out here to apologize," Coulson says.

"You didn't? Mmm."

" _Tony_ ," Pepper Potts, to no avail, but Skye knows that kind of voice – guesses all the stories are true.

"I know you don't owe me anything. And I know I owe you... an explanation at least. But I'm asking you to do this, because it's the right thing to do."

Tony Stark doesn't reply. Meeting's suddenly over.

That's when Pepper Potts walks them to the door. Her body language is slightly less hostile than Tony's, operative word being _slightly_. She even tries a polite smile when she stops Coulson walking out of the door.

"We'll call you tomorrow," she says.

They drive away, there's traffic on the I-10 and it's already sunset, the sand on the beaches dark blue.

 

+++

 

They go back to the hotel without a clear answer on whether Stark is going to help them or not.

Skye lies on her bed, trying not to accidentally break hotel property. It looks expensive. She wonders how Coulson's going to justify this in the budget. Weekend retreat for two sounds definitely suspicious. But a lot better than what they are actually doing. She vaguely thinks about calling the guys; not sure who, probably Simmons first, or Ward. She'd like to hear May's voice but the agent is not so big on emotionally-charged phone conversations. Or emotionally-charged conversations. Or conversations. God, she misses Agent May. Skye checks the time and remembers the flight plan – they must be in bed, so it's no use fantasizing anyway.

When she finds she herself can't sleep Coulson invites her to his room to talk. They call it _touching base_ or some other platitude; something nice and safe and normal. Something she's not feeling like, right now. But she takes the offer, hoping Coulson will go back to his usual self soon. That's another person he really, really misses.

He's sitting on a chair so Skye just takes the bed, cross-legged and like a child on a family holiday.

"You would think coming back from the dead might win you some magnanimity around these parts."

"You would think," Coulson repeats.

"I didn't know Tony Stark was such a brat. Life is full of disappointments."

Coulson looks at her for a moment, then down at the floor. "I hurt these people, Skye. Badly."

She notices he has helped himself to the mini-bar, but he doesn't offer her any.

"Hey, you had your own reasons for not telling them. And you were under orders. If Stark can't appreciate that it's his problem, not yours."

"Thank you," he says. "But you're not being very objective here. Imagine you were in his position."

And Skye does. And it's very upsetting. She imagines Coulson letting her think he's dead for months and months and she can't come up with any possible scenario in which Skye would accept his explanation for it.

"Iron Man has a point," she mutters. 

What she doesn't say: Iron Man also _doesn't_ have a point – there's no possible scenario in which Skye wouldn't forgive Coulson anyway.

 

+++

 

Pepper Potts calls the next morning to invite them over for breakfast.

"You think it's neurological?" Stark asks Coulson, talking like Skye isn't even in the room. He keeps doing that. 

"We've made some preliminary tests and it doesn't seem to be the case. But we don't have the kind of technology Stark Industries has, nobody does – specially after your recent investments in your own neuroscience division."

Stark looks surprised and apprehensive; ever since the whole issue with AIM and what went down Stark has decided to establish its own neurology think thank – complete with genetics, biochemistry, the whole expanded field; promising scientists and generous grants from the Stark Foundation. The idea seems to be _if they can make it dangerous, we can make it safe_ ; considering how this company made its name it's ironic but also the whole raison d'etre of Tony Stark. He hasn't considered that SHIELD is up to speed on that. On everything, really. Which is why Skye is up to speed on it as well.

When he finally pays any attention to her Stark asks when she started exhibiting signs of this kind of aptitude. She really, really doesn't want to talk about dying – and even though it's the easiest, _scariest_ explanation Skye knows she's not being entirely truthful in thinking, fearing it's the only one.

"I've always been very intuitive?" She tells them about card games and emotional intelligence and that thing where you can guess the next song to be played on the radio.

"I'm no expert," Stark says. "Forgive me I'm just a humble mechanic but I think being able to smash objects into a wall with your mind is a bit different from winning five games of Battleship in a row. I thought we were being serious here."

 _Asshole_ , she thinks.

It's like finding out there's no Santa (which by the way she also found out a lot sooner than a kid is supposed to, because, you know, orphan). She remembers she started living on her own around the time of the first Iron Man incidents and she felt comforted by the idea of a world larger than she'd been told, a world larger than her tiny childhood, a world where the heroes had a chance. Maybe she had been wrong to believe it was a good thing.

Superheroes are really disappointing. Skye is glad she's not one of them. She wants to go back to a normal version of being the good guys – to a place where she can lock all the doors in a building from miles away and where she can follow skeevy money trails online, which are not only things she _can_ do, but also non-scary.

 

+++

 

She calls Fitz before going into Stark Industries for a scan because that's the kind of thing Fitz would like to know. It's only been a couple of days and Skye already misses everybody. There's this horrible, continuous pressure on her chest like she's not going to see any of them again.

She smiles at the excitement in his voice. "If you happen to stumble upon any room, or workspace, that looks like Tony Stark might have been working in... could you –?"

"I'm not getting sued on corporative espionage charges because you want a picture of Iron Man's lab."

"Some of us are interested in knowing more about the Process of a Genius..." he capitalizes both words.

"Fitz, _you are_ a genius."

"... and not at all interested in being patronized by our teammates, thank you very much."

He sounds irritated. Skye gets it. "Aw. You miss me that much?"

"Mmm... no? _What_? It's about the Process."

It's all in vain because of course the first thing she has to do upon crossing the holy threshold of Stark Industries is surrender her phone and laptop. And her pens and keys, just in case. The Chief of Security gives her the stink eye like he can tell she's a (former) criminal with outstanding warrants in three states.

The place is huge and when in her life did Skye expect to sitting in a room inside Iron Man's headquarters waiting for Iron Man to tell her if she is an "unregistered gifted"? This is one more extra thing to add to the list of ridiculous things, just because a couple of scary guys in dark suits showed up at her van's door once.

"Jarvis..."

"Medical history uploaded, sir."

She fights the urge to ask again why he designed his software with a British accent.

Stark gives her a curious look. "That's not much of a history."

"You can refer to my physician, Doctor Simmons," Skye tells him. "I don't like check-ups. And I don't like leaving traces."

"Oh yeah I bet SHIELD loves that, I bet they're down with that plan."

She squirms in the chair.

He's right, though. There are a lot of things the organization has made her give up, a lot more information (or lack of) than she'd been comfortable sharing with other people in a long time.

(she can hear it in her mind, Fitz's voice: _How can you not have a Social Security Number?_ , and then she turned around to see Coulson half-smirking at her, _She does now_ , and handing her a paper which was just as fake as all the records Skye herself has ever faked, except this paper was _officially_ fake because SHIELD is very comfortable working around ambiguity, even hers)

Tony Stark asks her when the _weird shit_ started happening to her. Because he didn't quite believe her at first but after she pretty much destroyed his kitchen this morning he's on board with the whole plan. Skye can't control it – can't even think of _starting_ to control it at this point but even she thinks the way the bowl of oranges was knocked over looked particularly poetic, each piece of fruit falling to the floor with a blunt sound that punctuated the demise of Tony Stark's skepticism towards her. He recovered quickly: _Let's see what other tricks you can do_ he said with a wolf-grin. It didn't exactly help matters, or if it helped matters it didn't exactly help Skye's mood.

"Things started falling down in the plane," she tries to explain. "Little things at first. Glasses, plates, folders. It took us a bit to figure out it was me."

"Like _Poltergeist_."

"No, not like _Poltergeist_. I'm not a ghost. Wait. Which one is _Poltergeist_ again?"

"Like _Carrie_ , then?" Stark crosses his arms dramatically. "You're way too young to be hanging out with Coulson."

"We're not hanging out. He's my boss."

"Kid, I saw you fling a pen across my living room like a 105 mph fastball. He's not your boss – you are his boss."

He diverts her attention to the map of her brain. What he is using it looks a lot like the Holocom in the Bus, except he doesn't need the table to project the images.

"Is that my brain?"

"Pretty much."

"Is it normal?" She's not sure which answer feels more frightening.

"Dissapointingly normal. Are you sure you are psychic? What number am I thinking of?"

"How should I know?"

"Why are we here at all? You're supposed to be a telepath."

Skye shrugs. "I don't know – thirty-seven."

"Nope. You suck."

"I told you," she protests. "It doesn't work that way. I can't make it stick. It comes and goes."

"What number am I thinking of _now_?"

She raises an eyebrow. "You're thinking _This girl is a fraud and she's wasting our time_."

"Okay, that's a little more precise than eighteen but much more interesting so the jury'll concede it. Come on, you can get down now."

He helps her down from the chair; the gesture is almost gentlemanly and another Skye would have appreciated resting her hand on Tony Stark's arm to climb out of a chair.

"Hey, look, your brain did a thing."

He points at the holographic image. Skye doesn't know how to read it so she'll take his word for it.

"Is that...?"

"Yeah, it did a thing. A very little thing but – slightly brighter than normal, there, see – a thing nonetheless. Look at those axons go."

"So... this is real? What's happening to me."

"You're officially a freak now," he says. Skye thinks _asshole, asshole, asshole_ and then he gives her a disarmingly warm smile. "Welcome to the family."

Oh, okay, so maybe there's hope for Iron Man yet.

She thinks she should say something nice back, so naturally she says instead: "How long are you going to keep Coulson in the doghouse?"

Stark turns to her, closing and opening his eyes very slowly. " _Excuse me_?"

Yeah, Skye can't believe she's picking a fight with Iron Man either. But she _has to_.

"So he lied to you. Big deal. SHIELD lied to him, too. Plus he died so – you know – whatever your problem is with that I assume Coulson had a way suckier time with it than you. Actually, I know that for a fact. You need to get over yourself."

"Jarvis, did she just tell me to get over myself?"

"I believe that to be the case, sir."

"Just checking. Shocking. No – it's not shocking, I get that all the time. You think you are the first one to tell me that? It's a perennial favorite with women."

Months ago she would have been impressed (and charmed) by the man. Not that he isn't impressive (or charming), even up close. She adjusts the strap of her bag across her chest – it's weirdly light without her laptop in it and Skye feels the old panic of leaving her possessions in other people's hands.

She looks Tony Stark straight in the eye.

"If you don't want to help us, that's fine. I really, really don't want to be here being studied like some kind of lab rat. I don't care about your state-of-the-art research facilities, we can pack up and go. But don't give Coulson a hard time."

"So he's not your boss – you're his bodyguard."

 _If I could..._ she thinks.

When Stark asked about what other tricks she had Skye didn't tell him that now when she's asleep and her defences are down she can hear other people's minds clearly; she doesn't retain the knowledge of what she's heard but the shape of it, the trace of what it felt like, remains. She doesn't tell Tony Stark she has felt Coulson, asleep above her on the plane or door to door in a hotel, has felt his nightmares. 

She doesn't tell him that even awake she can feel the bitter vestiges of Tony Stark's own nightmares about New York.

 

+++

 

Of course Pepper's reticent attitude lasts much, much less than Tony's anger. Politeness melts onto something warmer and Skye is relieved to see that at least someone seems genuinely happy that Coulson is alive.

She calls Coulson _Phil_ , which Skye finds vaguely irritating in some childish way. She feels like she's stepped into a party full of adults and she the clumsy kid, not understanding half the conversations.

"You dated her?" she asks Coulson, getting a vibe.

"We had dinner once."

"Oh My God, you dated Iron Man's girlfriend. How isn't this the only thing you talk about, ever, sir?"

"It was just one dinner."

Pepper is very nice to her – except she keeps calling it " _abilities_ " and Skye feels like a fake.

Ability is something you can use.

Something to be proud of.

 

+++

 

Coulson still looks ill at ease being here, despite the obvious improvement in their situation. She suspects it's not just Tony's belligerance. That has to be a factor and she would understand if he was simply irritated but –and you wouldn't know to look at him because he's Phil Coulson, master of the art of the human monolith, but it's not like Skye can't tell– he is jumpy too, jumpy bordering on fearful.

She is back to bothering him in his room, taking over the bed and ordering room service while he's in the shower. She's like a kid crashing her parents' hotel room. Except Coulson is not exactly a parent because yeah, no, Skye wasn't kidding when she told Stark she had great intuition – that also applies to herself.

All things considered she's also slightly scared of being by herself right now. She suspects Coulson knows that too, and lets her do what she wants, even sacrificing hours of sleep because Skye doesn't want to go back to her room until two in the morning. She has promised herself she's not going to inquire about why he's acting so detached. That resolution lasts about two nights.

"Why are you being robot!you?" she asks him.

"Robot!me?"

"That's what I call you when you're being sneaky and/or uncommunicative?"

"Which am I being right now?" he asks softly. 

He's not getting out of a serious conversation through teasing this time, Skye decides. "Weird. You're just being weird."

"Back in the day I used to be quite proud of my involvement in the Iron Man case," he says. "I didn't brag, of course. But I felt good about being around these people. I was there in the beginning, sort of. Thought I kind of helped."

"Then what? You discovered Iron Man was a jackass and lost your faith in superheroes? Because that happens."

"Last time I was around Mr Stark I ended up getting stabbed in the heart and died."

Skye gives him a weak smile. "Don't joke about that."

"No."

She sits up. "And what? You think it might happen again?"

Coulson sits on the other edge of the bed, turning to look at her.

"After the Battle of New York I decided I had been too involved with forces I didn't understand, forces beyond my control. Gods and monsters and magic. It pretty much got me killed. I promised myself I wouldn't go back to all that."

"That includes me?" She asks. When Coulson doesn't give a quick reply she elaborates. "Not that I'm saying I could be like Iron Man, or Thor. Clearly I'm not made of that stuff. But you think being around me is bad? Bad for you?"

"No, I didn't mean it that way." He makes an exasperated noise, like choosing the right words is an unbearable task. "I very consciously chose to believe that part of my life was behind me, concentrated on another kind of work. I didn't predict you would–"

"Drag you right back to that life, uh?" She finishes; she tries to make it sound more funny than hopeless.

"Exactly. Then again I didn't predict a lot of things that ended up happening because I met you, Skye. I wouldn't exactly say it's been all for the worse."

"Okay, now that doesn't sound like robot!you, it sounds more like you!you. Cryptic but nice."

He grins and it's the first time he looks kind of relaxed since they arrived. It's the first time Skye doesn't feel like this trip is the worst idea anyone could have had.

 

+++

 

She tries to hack into Jarvis before they leave California, twice, just to see how good Tony Stark really is at this stuff; evidently better than Skye anyway, but she doesn't feel too bad about it because if you are deft enough to create an AI complete with sarcasm and britishness you should be deft enough to protect it. Jarvis doesn't seem fit to inform Tony of her attempts, though, and likewise if you are an AI smart enough to be british and sarcastic you should be smart enough to know Skye means no harm. It says it all, the fact that she gets on better with Tony Stark's _computer_ than she does with the man, the legend.

Now she's in Iron Man's workshop, the actual private one; she takes a picture of herself in it and sends it to Fitz. _Don't tell_ she says to Jarvis before the others join her downstairs.

Stark wants to try one last test. It sounds a lot like Zener cards to Skye.

"Yes though – no – not exactly; this is not the 1930s."

He makes her sit on a chair in the center of the room. "This seems silly."

"In almost every studied case of psychokinesis – needless to say, fake, fake cases – the phenomena, yeah I hate I'm calling it that, has been associated to other parallel abilities mainly precognition, or retrocognition, that one is also kind of fun, so no, I don't think it's silly to have you Zener battle Jarvis. Reading my mind the other day doesn't count – I am human and emotional, _very_ emotional, you could have just been very observant. Try reading a computer's mind."

Coulson frowns. "Stark, you've been reading up on this stuff."

"I always do the research. Why doesn't anybody else? And thank you for the vote of confidence, I'm not gonna _half_ -ass a favor because the person asking happens to be a _complete_ -ass."

Skye finds it encouraging that he has moved on to insulting Coulson to his face. The fact that she considers it _progress_ is a sign that even a weekend is too long to spend near Iron Man.

"Okay, I'll take your stupid test. But I'm telling you right now – I can _not_ see the future."

Coulson comes close to her. He rests his hand on the arm of the chair, for a moment she was convinced he was going to hold her hand. He looks somber, and right at her.

"Remember what we talked? People being in denial about their abilities?" His voice is soft and for a moment it feels like they are alone in the room.

"I'm in denial? I don't know. Look, I don't know where I come from and I can't explain why all this weird stuff is happening _now_ but... I think I'd notice if I were telepathic or precognitive. It's just me, I'm just very good at–"

"– knowing what makes people tick?"

They share a tiny private smile. Skye breathes. "I'll take the stupid test."

The test is glorified Zener. Pre-loaded images randomly picked by Jarvis a different speed. She can't see the screen and neither can Stark or the others, just in case she'd happen to be picking up on their reactions and not her own intuition. Or, what was the official name, extrasensorial perception? She thinks she might be getting sick.

Each correct answer is like being slapped in the face.

Don't get her wrong: it would be very exciting, having powers. She would never complain about that. Even after everything (after Mike Peterson) she understands the drive to become something larger than yourself. It's not like Skye ever wanted to have an ordinary life – quite the opposite. But this doesn't feel like having powers. This feels like random crap is happening around her, some of which is not pleasant. And she's not done dealing with the fact that she almost-but-not-almost died and all the things Coulson had to do to bring her back.

"Great," she sighs, afterwards. "We should ring up the Clairvoyant, maybe I'd like to fight him for the title."

"The Clairvoyant?" Stark asks.

Coulson turns to him. "You know that name."

"Only that it has SHIELD all up in arms, he's been running the shots in Centipede, hasn't he."

"He's been causing... some trouble. For us, personally. But I thought Fury didn't inform you on missions anymore."

"Rogers does."

"So you're on the lookout?" Coulson asks.

"That's like the second favor you've asked of me this weekend, how I miss the days when you merely wanted to debrief me or tase me."

When they say goodbye on Stark's hallway, the tallest ceiling she's ever seen, Pepper Potts gives Skye a brief, encouraging hug. It's warm, Skye thinks it's nice and for a moment she is almost sorry to be leaving, before coming back to her senses.

When they say goodbye Stark shakes Coulson's hand and given the mood at the beginning of the trip it feels to Skye like one of mankind's truly great achievements. Even Coulson seems a bit surprised by it; his face doesn't really move but Skye knows that's surprise. She hopes Tony Stark takes her advice about getting over himself – not that she thinks she has any capacity to affect these lives so much greater and above hers. This is the Avengers (one of them anyway) and she's only a footnote, not even a supporting character, and she has the feeling Tony and Pepper will forget all about this visit as soon as they say their goodbyes and close the door.

Maybe not; maybe what they'll take away is that they should just be glad Coulson is back in their lives. Skye hopes so.

"You look horrible, Agent," is what Tony Stark says to Coulson instead of goodbye.

Coulson smiles. "I know."

"Getting killed didn't agree much with you. Or coming back to life, we can't be sure which. So you should – maybe – stay away from that stuff."

"He means take care," Pepper Potts intervenes.

Coulson nods. "I know."

 

+++

 

The Bus comes to pick them up in a secret SHIELD airbase near Ventura.

Skye watches May's particularly smooth landing, thinking _yes, home_.


	2. Barton

 

It doesn't take SHIELD long to figure out what is going on.

(they are welcome to explain what's going on to Skye, by the way)

To Nick Fury's credit he doesn't throw Skye into a dark, locked room or whatever horrific scenarios she imagines the Sandbox to contain.

She's off the plane, in any case, after the last couple of incidents. Skye thinks they are exaggerating – yes, she'd have wished FitzSimmons' lab didn't contain so much glass but she is confident she could have never hurt anyone.

(or maybe she just wants to be confident)

Time off in SHIELD HQ feels a lot like punishment, not at all like _prevention_. Coulson hasn't said how long she is going to stay here, or why, exactly. HQ is big and scary and everybody who lives here look big and scary, too.

"I'm not going to blow up the plane," she pleads with him as he walks her to her temporary quarters.

"I know that."

"I don't have _the capacity_. Can't you tell them?"

"It's okay, Skye. Or it will be. But right now we have to do this."

He's still using _we_ , which is encouraging. Skye has felt numbingly alone since this started, but a bit less alone because Coulson decides to occasionally be Coulson.

They make him sign a lot of very official-looking papers. 

"What's that?"

"It means I'm responsible for you," he tells her.

"I thought you were responsible for me before. Are you adopting me?" Skye really, really regrets the choice of words. She wishes he could read her mind sometimes, not the other way around.

Coulson looks at her.

"You're a registered gifted now. You need a handler."

"I already have a Supervising Officer."

"That's different," he says.

 _That's for normal people_ she fills in.

"I don't think the Avengers have handlers," she points out. Not that she comparing herself to the Avengers.

"They're different," Coulson says.

"Could I get you in trouble?"

"Yes. But that's never stopped you before."

The door to her room is open; they can see agents coming and going. Unlike the Academy this place is a collection of varios degrees of Mays and Wards, right down to the combat clothes.

"Do I have to wear the same as everybody else?" she asks Coulson. "Because I don't do uniforms. I went to Catholic school."

There's the slightest hint of humor curving his lips. "I'll do what I can about that. See? This is why you need a handler."

 

+++

 

Unlike with Stark this time Coulson has talked about Agents Barton and Romanoff at some length. Before this Skye (and the public in general) considered those two the least Avenger-like of the Avengers, on account of not having any powers. That's okay, Skye thinks, superpowers are overrated, this is how she sees it these days. Plus not having supernatural abilities and still being part of the Avengers? That's much more badass. 

They have history, Coulson and these people, and unlike the business with Stark this time Skye doesn't feel jealous; she feels curious.

Also, she's going to train every day with people who have their own action figures, for real, you can buy them in shops. That's kind of exciting – except for the training part.

"Why do I have to train with them? I've already learned the basics with Ward."

"The basics are not going to cut it now. And if Ward were here he'd tell you the same."

"I wish Ward was here."

Coulson stops and gives her a tiny, comforting smile.

"I know. But we have to figure out how to control your powers before we get back to regular work."

It's the first time Coulson calls it _powers_. He says it clinically, Skye feels he doesn't consider it a part of her. He still thinks about it as something separate, inconvenient, dangerous. And Skye can't exactly blame him, she agrees. There are two distinct things, Skye and Skye's scary abilities.

"Not sure how getting my ass kicked by the world's two scariest spies is going to help."

"Skye, this is what SHIELD does. You have –"

"Trust the system? You were the one who didn't want to tell SHIELD about my – thing – in the first place."

He holds out his hand as if he wanted to touch her elbow but he stops midway. Skye thinks about how he's been restraining from touching her ever since she started showing signs of ESP. Fear or consideration, she doesn't know which it is, but she wants neither from him.

"Don't trust the system," he tells her. "Trust these people. They're good people. They can help."

 

+++

 

Training here is a lot different from Ward teaching her how to attack a punching bag. In fact Agent Barton, officially in charge of her development, seems to harbor no interest in punching bags whatsoever.

"Very rarely you encounter bad guys who are punching bags," he says.

Barton makes a lot of jokes, she notices that pretty early; mostly bad, some of them good. Skye feels he doesn't do it out of a desire to put her at ease but rather this is the genuine article. He's very guarded, though. He makes jokes and he acts overly friendly, but that doesn't mean he is an open-book. It reminds her of Coulson somehow, and it's easy to see why two men like them would get along.

At first he tries to get her to use her abilities in combat – because that's the idea, that would be useful, that's something SHIELD could manage. But after a couple of frustrating days Barton is smart enough to understand that's a dead end for now, she's not that much in control of it, specially under pressure. He changes gears and focuses on teaching Skye self-defense for a while.

Skye enjoys that. She feels... safe. And that hasn't happened for a while. Agent Barton is very good at making her feel safe. She doesn't feel like a problem or a liability, because seriously, it looks like nothing could faze the archer and his carefully constructed cowboy grin.

It's even more useful when Agent Romanoff –or Natasha, because yeah, Skye gets to call Black Widow by her first name now, _she insisted_ – trains with them; it looks like there's nothing scary enough in the world that these two couldn't take on head on. Skye is developing a bit of hero crush on them, it was to be expected, and she is entirely convinced Coulson had that in mind. Finding people she can trust outside their merry world of the Bus, okay, she has to admit it doesn't feel bad.

"Don't be shy, put all your weight on me," Barton is saying, arm across Skye's shoulders.

"You're going to break my arm, dude."

"I'm not going to break anything."

"He's not going to break your arm," Natasha says, holding Skye by the ankle as she tries to teach her how to balance herself off a second assailant to incapacitate the first.

She knows Barton is not going to hurt her; she rationally knows this, but suddenly his arm around her neck is too much and Skye is breathing quick, shallow breaths. That's when the cell phone she had left with her stuff by the door flies the length of the training court and connects violently with Agent Barton's shoulder. The impact doesn't knock him over but he has to maneuver to keep his balance. And it looks like it hurt.

"What the–?"

Barton lets go of her, and Skye would have dropped to the floor, head first, if Black Widow wasn't so freaking fast. Natasha puts one hand under Skye's back and does this thing where Skye feels like a pancake being flipped, Natasha's small but powerful arms around her waist, suddenly there's firm ground. She feels dizzy for a moment, but she knows that's the use of her abilities.

He picks up the phone from the floor. "That you, Skye? You threw a phone at me!"

"We were warned," Natasha tells her calmly.

"Well, I wasn't." She walks up to Barton. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

"No, that's fine," he says, rubbing the upper part of his left arm. "You were protecting yourself, that's good. Very good."

"I think I'll leave my phone outside tomorrow."

"That might be a good idea," says Natasha, hands on her hips, clearly in charge here. She gives Skye a slight nod of the head, though, almost approving.

You wouldn't expected it from someone called the _Black Widow_ but Natasha, too, is a lot of fun to be around, despite the fact that Skye is constantly terrified of her. She comes up almost every morning to help out with the training. Skye feels there's a bit of overdeveloped sense of responsibility in that; like she thinks she owes it to Coulson to make sure Barton is taking good care of her. Skye has picked up on the crazy protective vibe of these two towards Coulson – not only the idea that they go back a long way but that they somehow feel responsible for what happened before the Battle of New York. She knows the bare facts but Barton explains in some detail over a beer – after the TK incident she wasn't in a state to work more so he proposed they just hang out instead.

"It was me," he tells her, about Coulson's death. "I was under the influence of an ancient source of power."

"The Tesseract." She notices Barton's look. "Coulson let me read the files."

"You are not authorised," he says. Then, impressed: "Good."

"You were mind-hijacked by a god, it wasn't your fault. Which I guess it's a pretty obvious thing to say and you must have heard it a million times and it means nothing coming from a random stranger."

"I know it wasn't my fault. I'm not so self-serving that I'd be moping about that. But the fact is I did it. I led Loki to the Hellicarrier and Coulson died as a consequence." This time he notices Skye's look. "He seems to have gotten over it, though."

" _Gotten over it_ is not exactly how I would describe it."

 

+++

 

She knows she shouldn't be snooping around SHIELD's timetable, but old habits die hard and well, it's not like they can send her back to her van anymore. They are stuck with her just as much as she is stuck with them.

That's how she knew Barton had an ops meeting in the fourth floor before breakfast. That's how she's able to intercept him.

"I'm sorry about yesterday. With the flying phone and all that."

"Stop thinking about it. Didn't even hurt a bit."

She knows that's true. He and Natasha injure each other way more seriously every day. They have their own training routine in the afternoon and then the next morning Skye would see one of them (normally Barton) show up with scary bruises all over their bodies.

"You're going to practice?" she asks. She knows he does target practice every day.

"Yeah."

"Can I come?" Barton gives her a worried frown. She tries to flash a charming smile. "I've never seen the Hawk shoot."

You can tell SHIELD puts a lot of faith in Barton's abilities by the size of the training facility designed for him, and how expensive it looks. Everything tailored to his needs. Not a man but a well-oiled machine and this is where he goes for the oil. Skye thinks it's a bit of an exaggeration until he grabs his bow and she _understands_.

The silence here surprises her. There's not even a slight hiss when he slides the arrow along the rest. The flight of the arrow makes no more noise than the rustling of leaves by a soft breeze. It also looks as poetic.

It doesn't look like violence as much as it looks like art. Not a well-oiled machine but an artist.

And there's something genuinely beautiful about a 100% rate of accuracy, if you think about.

Skye wonders what it would take for her to be that good at something. Even the things she's really good at she's not the best in the world, she's not 100% accuracy. She wants to ask Barton: _is it a comfort or a burden?_

"It's all going a bit too fast for me," she tells Barton when he walks her back to her quarters. Or rather she tells _Clint_ , because she is starting to make a distinction. He's the first person she tells, about the speed at which her abilities are developing.

"What is?"

"The things I can do. Not just attacking you with my cellphone." He smiles. "Other things. There's more stuff and it's getting freakier... exponentially. I don't have time to process it."

There's a beat, she can see Clint really thinking about it.

"I think you should talk to Coulson about it."

She shrugs. "Coulson is even more scared of this than me."

"That's not the Phil Coulson I remember."

Well, it's the one I got, Skye thinks.

 

+++

 

She writes Simmons endless emails.

"Are you all right?" Simmons asks, calling Skye up late one night.

"Of course. Why?"

"You're writing me endless emails."

"I'm sorry."

 

+++

 

There's this bit where her abilities come a bit handy when she tries not getting her ass kicked by the world's two scariest spies. It doesn't help a lot, she still goes back to her room every night with ugly bruises and all her muscles aching, all of them, that's a lot of muscles. But it helps a bit, when she can tell what her opponent is going to do next. It's easier with Barton, which is to be expected.

"Tasha, come look at this. She can predict my attacks. She can't do shit about them, but she can predict them."

She's on a roll today, even Skye has to admit it. It took her very little to figure out Barton's balance is slightly less succesful when leaning on his left side. She's been guessing his movement for over twenty minutes now. A strange surge of confidence in her, an unusual attack of optimism and for a moment Skye thinks _I might be useful_.

Then the moment is gone, painfully.

Finally Barton lands a blow Skye can't see coming. His elbow connects with the side of her temple and she goes down so easily that she wonders, for a moment, if lying on the floor shouldn't be her natural state.

Barton crouches by her side quickly. He looks a bit spooked – Skye realizes she is still a civilian in his eyes and while landing a hit on another, trained SHIELD agent wouldn't even register, hitting her sends him into a slight panic. He might have broken the poor, unmusculed hacktivist in his charge.

"Oh, shit, kid. I thought you were gonna block that. Are you okay? Do you feel concussed?"

"Concussed? You're not that strong. Is this revenge for the other day? And I told you," she says as she lets her weight be lifted by Natasha's creepily strong hands. "It doesn't always work. It's not a power – powers are meant to be infallible. This is worthless."

"You just need time," Natasha tells her. "You think Clint was always 100% accurate? It's a process."

"Hey," Clint protests. And it's _Clint_ who protests, not Barton.

"Look, guys, it's very sweet and you are great teachers, I'm just unteachable. I don't think this is helping."

"I don't think Coulson sent you to us so that you'd learn how to fight," he says.

" _Clint_."

"What do you mean?" Skye asks.

"I think Coulson wanted you around me and Tasha so that you can see not everybody is scared of you. He knew we'd treat you like a person. I think he knows you must be worried about that sort of thing."

"Clint, I don't think she should–"

"Look at Agent Romanoff," he tells Skye. "She spars every day with Captain America before breakfast. You think she's gonna freak over a little show of telepathy?"

He's right. Skye hadn't been able to put into words the sense of ease she experiences around these people. They might not have superpowers, but they're definitely just as much of a freak as she is. And right now, in this place, that feels good.

Skye straightens her posture.

"Okay, Agent Barton. I'm ready to try again."

 

+++

 

Okay, so she hacks into SHIELD's timetable _twice_. She hasn't seen Coulson in a couple of days and she's feeling a bit neglected – she misses him. Clint and Natasha are great, really, but at the end of the day she's all alone in this place.

"Been looking for you," she says.

"Why doesn't it surprise me, Skye, how easily you've been able to find me."

No, he doesn't look surprised at all. But she is not about to stand here and recieve a talking-to for something as minor as this. She's been throwing phones at Level 9 agents, with her mind. Coulson and SHIELD will have to let this one go.

"Where have you been?" she asks.

"Doing some stuff."

He looks tired. Skye feels an inexplicable rush of guilt, and then she realizes it's not inexplicable.

"Am I already causing trouble for you?" she asks.

Coulson crosses his arms. "The whole perceptive thing... It can get annoying."

"Sorry. I don't do it on purpose."

"I know. I'm trying to get you back to work. You shouldn't be locked up in here."

 

+++

 

The best part about training with Agents Barton and Romanoff is the aftermath. They must have seen some awful times in their careers, because they really know how to wind down. Nothing too debaucherous, specially since Skye is strictly forbidden to leave HQ.

One day Agent Romanoff comes back from a mission looking more worked up than usual. Skye is still dumb enough to ask if she is okay, but smart enough not to be surprised when the other woman chooses to ignore the question.

"Come on, Tash. I think it's time we showed Skye the spot," Clint says.

She says nothing but she leads Clint and Skye to a Level 9 elevator.

It's Friday night and they teach Skye how to unlock the door to the roof. They have two dozen cans of beer between them and Skye is beginning to like the routine and the small rituals of life in Headquarters. Both Clint and Natasha have their own flats in the city, and they both take off on extended visits to the Avengers Tower in Manhattan, but they fall right back into a soldier's life. Skye sort of envies their capacity to navigate the good bits and the bad bits of SHIELD seamlessly.

"This is a great spot."

Clint gives her a friendly tap on the shoulder.

"You can ask Tasha about your telekinesis thing. She's Russian, they did a lot of experiments about that."

"The term telekinesis was coined there," Natasha explains, a bit too willingly. She doesn't sound exactly chipper, this is still Black Widow, but the drinks are definitely helping. "And during the Cold War there was the psi race against America. Research of anomalous cognition, mainly in the 1960s."

Anomalous cognition, Skye thinks, that's a good way of putting it. _Anomalous_ is definitely it.

"The Soviets ever found out how to stop it?" she asks her. She knows she sounds self-pitying but hey, they are getting drunk on a rooftop.

"Oh, no, don't say that," Clint whines. "Who's going to throw cell phones at my face now?"

Skye sighs. This particular spot on the roof, the views above their heads, lends itself to self-reflection.

"I really don't want to be a superhero," she says, to no one in particular. Then to her two companions: "No offence, you guys, but I wouldn't want to be in the Avengers, ever. I just want to be a SHIELD agent, a good one, like Coulson."

Clint and Natasha exchange a look. Okay, so Skye is only about the most obvious person on the whole planet, but that's okay because Clint and Natasha definitely are the most discrete people on the whole planet. So she's covered.

Clint chuckles to himself. "I never thought Coulson would agree to being someone's handler, though."

"Clint," Natasha says in a warning tone and Skye thinks Agent Barton must be a very brave man not curl up in a ball at that.

"What? It's true. He never wanted to be my handler anyway. And even when he took care of you and vouched for you, Nat, it wasn't really official, he didn't want it official. Remember? He said he didn't want to be responsible for just one person for that long."

"I must be really special," Skye says, thinking _Or really dangerous_.

"Yeah," Clint mutters, pondering. Then comes the cowboy grin. "I don't get it."

 

+++

 

"Fitz found a fly in the lab. It's been a rough couple of days."

Skye can't help but grin about how Simmons says it. 

"Try not to have too much fun without me, okay?" There's a silence at the end of the line. " _Simmons_?"

"When are you coming back?"

"I don't know, ask my handler."

"Mmm... who?"

"Coulson. He's like officially responsible for my actions. I don't really understand it."

"You have a _handler_?" Skye doesn't know why the hint of uneasiness in Simmons' voice. "Oh no, you're actually one of them now? You're in the Index. Oh, _Skye_ , no..."

 

+++

 

It's a bit of a cold night to be on the roof again but Skye doesn't mind. She asked Clint to cancel their afternoon session and he let her off the hook without asking any questions. You wouldn't know to look at him but Agent Barton's actually a pretty smart guy.

She's been up here for a while and in the end it doesn't surprise her that it's Coulson who comes to find her. They haven't seen each other in a couple of days – she guesses he's been doing some stuff.

"Been looking for you," he says. 

"Hi, A.C."

"See you've found the good spot up here."

"You knew about this place?"

"Who thinks gave Romanoff the password?" He looks around. It's late and the cities on the horizon are all lit up. "It's a good place to be alone. Do you need to be alone right now?"

She shakes her head. "Told you, there's always room for you."

Coulson makes a conflicted face, but he goes through with it and sits on the ground next to her. He sits close enough that Skye is tempted to shift in her spot and touch their shoulders together, just to break the weird no-touching policy Coulson seems to have instituted. _Am I toxic?_ she thinks.

"Look, I talked to Clint and Natasha about some stuff."

He smirks. "Always a questionable idea."

"You really don't like this situation, uh?"

"What situation?"

" _My_ situation."

He doesn't say anything for a long time. So she does:

"If you are not cool with being anyone's handler, just say it. I don't need you to hold my hand. I can do this. You should do whatever you want to do. And I – I get it. You can't even touch me, as I am right now. You're scared of me, it's okay, I'm scared of me."

She doesn't realize how cold her hands were until she feels how warm Coulson's hand is. He slowly slips his fingers between hers. Skye stays very still, as if not to disturb his resolve. She feels like if she just as much as breathes too heavily Coulson is going to withdraw. But hey, apparently, it isn't that he _can't_ touch her.

"It's not that," he is saying, like he is the one reading minds now. "I admit it, Skye. I am a bit scared. But not _of you_. And I know you don't need anyone to hold your hand through this. You were always able to do it on your own, I realize that. But I'd like to be here anyway."

She squeezes his hand and keeps the pressure, like she's holding on to him for dear life. She thinks it's enough of an answer, but she likes putting this stuff into words anyway.

"I'd like that, too."

Coulson looks up. The sky is a bit clouded but you can see some stars.

He says: "This is a great spot."

They stay like this for a while.

Skye's hands are not cold anymore.


	3. Captain America

It's not just all the stuff that gets smashed while she is asleep – other people's thoughts invading her mind put too much stress on her body when unconscious and her abilities react like she's being attacked by an unseen enemy.

(for the record, she hasn't blown up the plane yet, not even once)

There have been other, more serious incidents – it has started to affect the missions. They all got very good at pretending it didn't, but it did.

They all got very good at pretending until that horrible day in Columbus.

"Skye, _please_ , unlock the doors."

"I can't!"

She doesn't think she'll be able to forget Simmons' face in that moment, drained of color and looking at Skye as if she didn't know her. Fitz, too, frozen, not saying anything, and when has Fitz ever been able to keep quiet.

She doesn't think she'll be able to forget Simmons' look of sheer terror, not in a lifetime.

"Skye, you have to calm down," Coulson was saying in her ear.

"I'm trying!"

She would like to say that it was Coulson's voice which calmed her but it doesn't work like that, it doesn't _even_ work like that.

Simmons didn't take her eyes off her the whole time. Skye thought a lot about Hannah Hutchins that day.

Outside the SUV May and Ward – whom they were supposed to be picking up, not trying to run over – were looking at Skye with something unmistakeably a lot like fear in their expression.

And when May and Ward look at you like you are the scary one, well, it's time to remove yourself from the company of humans.

So she does. No more humans around, that's for sure.

In the end it's Coulson's call, like everything. Even inside the plane, even when they pretend to be back to their old routine, even when Skye is just tapping away at her laptop like the little-hacker-who-could that she is meant to be, the shift in hierarchy is palpable. Because while Coulson is everybody's boss he is only Skye's handler – she hadn't meant to add the extra weight on the man's shoulders, she really hand't.

"We need to leave," he tells her softly two, three days after Columbus. She's sitting in her bed, has been sitting in her bed for hours, and Coulson touches her wrist.

"Can't I go back to HQ?" she asks. HQ was safe and full of Clint and Natasha and Skye's pretty sure she can't face FitzSimmons ever again.

"No. But I have a better idea."

 

+++

 

Apparently Coulson is not done asking Tony Stark favors, for her – that's what Skye guesses when she finds herself, suitcase in one hand, in the lobby of the formerly know as Stark Tower.

"Does this mean I'm an Avenger now?" she teases, trying to lift the mood after the depressing trip to New York.

"No," Coulson replies. "But you get to ask Captain America which one is your room."

"Right."

So Skye meets him and okay, you've heard the stories, but it's different face to face. This is not like meeting Iron Man (who was just a guy, and a pretty unpleasant one at that). Captain America is wearing the costume and it should be _ridiculous_ but it isn't, somehow. She should be thinking about other stuff, she should be worrying about her condition, the burden of her gift and all that crap, but come on, this is a supersoldier from the 1940s, Skye is allowed a little distraction, and she only has like eight million questions for him.

"It's good to see you again, Agent Coulson," Captain America says as he shakes Coulson's hand, and like he really means it, like he's genuinely glad to see the man alive. Which is _nice_.

Coulson smiles, not too much, a professional amount of smiling, and even though he shifts his weight from one foot to the other nervously all in all he's doing cool, Skye is actually impressed – she knows how Coulson _feels_ about Captain America. 

"This is Skye," he introduces her, bashful and proud at the same time, like _look, Skye, I'm introducing you to Captain America, who's the big shot now_ , it's endearing. "Thank you for letting her stay here a while."

He says it like Rogers owns the building and not Stark. Fair, Skye thinks, this is the Avengers Tower now and she can recognize the vibe of _team leader_ as soon as she sets eyes on him. He turns to greet her and she feels instantly welcome, that smile – she guesses the only way someone can be so genuine is if he's from the forties.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am."

Her eyes widen.

"Are you kidding?" Skye turns around to Coulson. "Is he kidding?"

Coulson shakes his head.

"Chill, chill," Skye mutters to herself. Except loud enough for everybody in the room to hear.

"Sorry?" Captain America inquires.

"Your face is unbelievable," she tells him. "It's a shame you have to wear a mask. You should lose the mask."

He scowls. Yes, Captain America knows how to scowl. Worse, she has _made him_ scowl – which oh god, if she's this way with Rogers there's no chance she's meeting Thor ever, ever, ever.

After it's all over (she can't remember much of the rest of the reunion) she takes Coulson by the arm and pulls him aside in one of the tower's endless hallways.

"Did I just disgraced myself in front of a National Treasure?" she asks.

She normally enjoys the sight of Coulson grinning. She could punch that face right now.

"There was some giggling involved, yes."

"Don't you dare enjoy this."

He pats her on the back. He's daring.

"If it's any consolation the first time _I_ met Captain Rogers went a lot worse than yours."

"Really? You're not just saying – to make me feel better?"

"I mean it. I told him I watched him sleep and then asked him to sign my Captain America trading cards."

"Trading cards? Thank you, that _does_ make me feel better."

 

+++

 

It's nice not having to worry about breaking things because your host is loaded. Because it's not like Tony Stark doesn't deserve to have some of his furniture, windows, and okay a couple of plasma screens destroyed, he totally does. The fact that she only feels 78% guilty about it means Coulson is excellent at making plans.

When Skye sees the sheer _scale_ of the place, the security measures all over, she begins to breath again.

She has a whole floor to herself and the Tower is mostly empty right now, what with Stark being on the West Coast and the Hulk being many continents away and Thor shacking up with his girlfriend (yes, Skye is kind of heartbroken to find about that) and Clint and Natasha spending all their time in HQ. SHIELD gives Coulson a flat on the city for the duration. Once again _the duration_ is completely unfathomable. The first week she doesn't see much of Captain America either, he's on some mission, and Skye prefers it that way for the moment.

Being alone means she doesn't have to worry about invading other mind's privacy while asleep. A floor to herself and that's a good idea. She hadn't realized she was this tired.

That first week she talks _a lot_ to Jarvis and doesn't tell anyone that she does.

"I feel superpower-jet-lagged," she tells Cap the first actual conversation they have. She's well rested and non-giggly, an obvious improvement.

"Wanna burn some energy?" he asks when he shows her the state-of-the-art gym.

"You would _break_ me."

He smiles. "Let's start with a punching bag first. Shall we?"

He's a punching bag guy, Skye thinks. She knows how to deal with those.

 

+++

 

There's _Captain America_ and underneath that there's _Cap_ and underneath that there's Steve.

Skye discovers Steve is not like a National Treasure at all.

If Skye had to put it into words she'd say Steve is the human equivalent of a big, hot cup of cocoa on a cold night. Around him she doesn't feel so rough around the edges.

She sees another side of him, too, not so comicbook simple and sweet; she has seen him go twenty rounds with the punching bags, the restlessness becoming something destructive, the tight line of his mouth mimicking the white-knuckled grip of his hands. Skye sees it because he lets her, he never stops being team leader, like maybe it's a lesson: not everything has to be clear-cut for everything to work.

And he has a sense of humor, which the stories and action figures always forget to include. One day he tells Skye in confidence that Coulson had a hand on redesigning the Captain America costume. Skye feels like it's Christmas but better; Coulson is never living that one down.

Once she gets over it herself Skye finds immensely enjoyable the way Coulson still gets flustered whenever he's in the same room as Steve. Every time. She guesses that's the reason why he doesn't visit much and prefers to receive his updates by phone.

Cap (and it is Cap and not Steve) never lets her in on the Avengers stuff, the missions. Not that she could help, as she is right now, but she's curious anyway.

"You are here to focus on yourself," Steve tells her gently but firmly.

Skye wishing she would be here for anything other than.

"No distractions," Natasha says, giving Skye a hard look; she's the one Steve can count on to back him up and not get up in his face questioning everything. The way Steve tells it he already has Stark for that.

When not on a mission Natasha spends just as much time in the Tower as Steve does, and she doesn't even live here. It's nice having a familiar face around, even if that face belongs to _Black Widow_ and nope, she's never going to find Natasha anything but terrifying. Skye is not sure why Jarvis is programmed to call her "Miss Rushman", though.

And it turns out that Natasha and Steve have some sort of short-hand, they move together in an easy and surprising friendship. Tony calls, incessantly, but never visits.

Clint, when he visits, calls Skye "rookie", Steve sometimes calls her "soldier" like he does everybody, Natasha doesn't really use her name and Coulson says _Skye_ like the responsibility is about to choke him, and things are good except for the parts that aren't: except for the secrets Skye has been keeping –it's sort of a tradition with her, isn't it– about how her powers are depleting her the more she tries to _control_ , how they are running her down to the ground and every time it takes more and more from her to hide it.

 

+++

 

"Do you think you could take Captain America in hand-to-hand combat? I think you could."

Silence on the other end of the line. Not even a sigh, just silence.

"I missed _not_ hearing your voice, Agent May." More silence. This is fun. "Are you on the stick?"

"Yes. Omaha to Richmond."

"Cool. Mission?"

"Retrieval," she says, redefining the whole practice of _succinct_.

"It went well?"

What Skye really wants is to ask about Fitz and Simmons.

"Slingshot," May replies and goddamnit not even May is _that laconic_. Skye knows Coulson has left Ward in charge and May must hate recieving orders from him, for so many reasons.

"So I guess you don't need me at all," Skye says. It's three in the morning, under normal conditions she wouldn't bank on being comforted by Melinda May.

"We manage," the woman says and Skye finds the tone intentionally funny.

"I'm sorry I took Coulson away from you guys. I promise I'll return him."

May snorts. "Good luck."

"What does that mean?"

Sometimes she wishes she could read minds through the phone. Then she doesn't, because May wouldn't be the May they all know and love without the perpetual mystery that is May's thought process.

She changes the subject. "Are Fitz and Simmons still freaked over what I did?"

"Fitz and Simmons are _fine_ ," May says with impatience, which is encouraging because Skye would definitely think there's something wrong with her if May started treating her with consideration.

"And how are you _and Ward_?" What? She cannot possibly kill her a hundred and fifty states away. Can she?

"Did you want something?"

"Just checking up on _mah team_. I know it's not my team, don't worry, I was joking."

Now she can definitely hear a sigh among the silence.

"Tell Phil I said to stop pining and get back to work."

"He does that. Doesn't he? That's the word. He pines for Captain America. Even Steve finds it funny."

"Yes, Skye, he pines for _Captain America_."

"You're very communicative today. Are you okay? You didn't hit your head during the mission, did you?"

"It's three in the morning in New York. Are you sure _you_ are okay?"

Melinda May just inquired if she was okay, which means she probably isn't.

"Yeah..."

"Good. Then stop playing with the Avengers, you should be back here doing real work."

Maybe Skye really is in trouble because that sounds almost kind, in fact she's pretty sure this is a much as anyone is ever going to get from Melinda May, Skye is pretty sure she's got much more from this conversation than Ward normally does.

 

+++

 

Steve, on top of everything else, is very helpful in showing her where everything goes in the Avengers Tower, specially the food. Because he ingests a lot. Skye has read the Captain America file enough times (and has listened to Coulson regurgitate it enough times) to know how that works, the crazy metabolism that has him going through the pantry like an invading army.

He's a good breakfast buddy; Skye needs to recharge in the morning (her nights not being particularly restful even with a whole floor to herself) but she also needs to be out of her own head. She starts turning up for meals at the same time as Steve, for the company. It's not stalkerish (Skye can see Ward's raised eyebrow in her mind, so clearly) because Steve knows she's doing it.

They are sitting side by side on the kitchen counter. She vaguely wonders why Stark has seven different coffee machines and why four of them look like rocket engines and the other three like robots. Steve is going through his second stack of pancakes while Skye is finishing her humble bowl of cereal.

They both are unusually quiet this morning.

"I can read minds," she spouts out. Not really to impress Captain America, but more to fill the silence.

"That must come in handy."

"Not really. Maybe when I get my powers under control. If they're even powers. I can't tell if I'm reading someone's mind or it's just plain intuition – I can never be sure the information is accurate."

Steve stops eating. He puts the pancakes aside, giving Skye his full attention.

"Coulson told me you've only had powers for a couple of months," he tells her.

"So what now, Coulson can speak to you without stuttering?"

Steve smiles. "Yes, he can. But that wasn't my point."

"I died – a bit. Not like Coulson, Coulson died a lot more than me. And then this started happening. There were things before – things I could do nobody else around me could. But now it's really serious."

"It takes time."

"You pursued and caught a Hydra operative fifteen minutes after you were injected with the Super Soldier Serum, Steve."

She's either read his file too many times or she's listened to Coulson tell the story too many times. Probably the latter. Steve gives her a kind look.

"That's not what takes time."

"Stark thinks that if I'm able to blast all the windows in his building I should be able to... _not do that_. I mean, he says it's possible I could control the telekinetic energy so that it goes around the objects instead of through them. He says the science is possible. That I could–"

"– _protect_ ," Steve says the word the way Skye is thinking it. "That would be a great thing. And if Tony says it's possible, then it must be."

Skye looks down at her hands.

"I don't want to be a weapon. I'd much rather be a shield." She looks up at Steve. "Don't tell Coulson I made that pun. _Please_."

Steve laughs, and it's so full and rich and sunshine-like a sound that Skye is taken aback.

"So you really can read minds?" he asks, lighter.

"Yes, some of the time."

"Interesting."

"I can – okay, tell you this – right now you're thinking that even though you just ate two superman-sized breakfast you are still crazy hungry, but you always, always feel guilty about ordering more food from the kitchen even though it's just, it's the supersoldier metabolism thing, but you are also thinking most of the Avengers budget comes from Stark and it makes you feel _unkind_ , wasting so much of his money."

"Oh, okay."

"No, I'm sorry, Cap. I'll never do that again – it's so awful to pry and if you had been thinking about heavier stuff I wouldn't have said anything. I don't go around – I try not to, anyway, without permission. I know it's a horrible thing."

Steve looks at her, right at her. That's a thing he does – he looks at you in the eye, open and concentrated and, who does that in this day and age?

"I think I'm relieved it's someone like you, Skye, who gets to have this kind of power."

"Someone like me?" She repeats, shell-shocked from his tone. She's about to lose it again. "Chill, Skye, chill."

Steve scowls.

 

+++

 

"So I have to be around these freaks but SHIELD put you in a flat all by yourself?"

"Yes?"

"Where is it?"

"Lenox Hill."

"Oh, yeah? They don't let me park my van around those parts, I tell you that," she says. Coulson makes the same amused face he does whenever Skye tells him about her former semi-homeless life. "Can I visit?"

"Can you visit my SHIELD-designated flat uptown? I don't understand."

"Did you bring anything from your collection?"

He raises an eyebrow. "Some pieces."

"I don't have any training this afternoon. Can I come visit? I promise I won't break any of your precious really-old stuff."

Coulson seems to think about it for much longer than it's necessary. 

"Meet me up front at four," he finally says.

The house might be a temporary thing but it looks and feels (and smells) very much like Coulson. Dark, rich wood furniture blends seamlessly with the latest technology, comfortable and classy with just the slightest hint of _show off_. It doesn't look very lived-in, and it's kind of sad. Unmistakably Coulson.

His collection is mostly pre-WW2 Europe or 60s America, nothing later than 1968. Skye feels like she is about to get it, the meaning of it all – like she can feel Coulson's thoughts throbbing inside her own brain but she doesn't push it, if anything she pushes it away, the way she can almost sense words on the tip of his tongue but those are the words that never go any further than that. 

The items are either elegant or were used for a good cause, or both. Some times there's even the rare Soviet gadget.

"Look at this. Coin cache," he inserts a needle into the coin, opening it to reveal the hollow inside. "Used to conceal microfilm in it. KGB, 1955."

"Cool." She's not pandering, this stuff is kind of cool – if you can overlook how troubling Coulson's glamourization of the past can feel. Skye can do that, now, because he looks excited about showing it to her.

Most of his collection is in storage, he tells her, it makes Skye wonder: what did he bring with him here, the pieces he values the most, the essentials, or the ones which are most expendable? She thinks she could crack the code, if she knew this little detail, and it makes her wonder how many times Coulson has had to spend weeks and months in houses like this one, houses _chosen_ for him and not by him, houses that might as well disappear as soon as he leaves them. It makes Skye wonder if there has ever been any place, maybe a long time ago, he has ever considered _home_.

He offers her a drink and Skye fondly watches him place the coasters on the table.

"Do you spend a lot of time here?"

"Between HQ and checking in on you? Not really. But I think it's important to surround yourself with things that give you a sense of stability, even if you're here for a short time."

"Now I wish I had brought my Hawaiian hula girl."

"Yes, what a pity," he says, a faint grin around the edges of his mouth.

"Hey, not cool. So... did you ever get your trading cards signed by Captain America? Because I can get that for you. Cap and I are pals now. Did I mention?"

"Couple of times. Thank you for the offer. But I lost the cards during Loki's assault on the Hellicarrier before the Battle of New York."

"That must have been a bummer."

"I was somehow preoccupied with other things, being as I was dead at the time." Coulson notices her expression. "You really don't like me talking about this."

"Did my face make the thing? I'm sorry. It's not that. It's just – you _were_ dead. It's a bit hard for me – thinking about you getting hurt, the idea of you _dead_. And then everything after. And what would have happened if you had died, for real? We wouldn't have met at all. That's too much to think about."

He studies her expression, puts his drink down.

"You got hurt too. You almost – do you want to talk about that?"

"Not really."

"Because you never do, and I wonder if that might be a problem."

There's a lot of things I don't ever talk about, she thinks. Dying is not even the top one.

"Is that my handler asking or...?"

Coulson doesn't answer that. It turns dark outside, brown New York fall, and Skye has the feeling he is about to offer to drive her back.

"Skye..."

"Please, don't send me back to the Avengers Tower tonight. I need to be out of there for a bit. They can be a little too much."

"I imagine."

She just wants to spend a night without Jarvis monitoring her brain activity. That's not the only reason why she wants to stay here, of course, but she can't tell Coulson that.

"I promise I won't break your china in my sleep. Probably. Okay, I can't promise that."

He smiles. It doesn't mean he's not worried about her, though, but for now it's more than enough.

"I'll get some sheets and blankets for the couch."

"Can we have another drink?"

He shoots her a glance and he doesn't need superpowers to be really good at this: "It helps?"

"Maybe."

It's not like she is about to start treating the side effects of her "gift" with alcohol but tonight is important that she doesn't spiral. She only discovered it by chance: she had been helping May clean herself up after a tough mission and the senior agent had insisted that Skye share a bottle scotch with her afterwards, like a wartime ritual. That night the intruding thoughts inside Skye's head were numbed by the effects of the drinks. She hasn't tried it again, but she knows it helps.

She is more than a little bit apprehensive about sleeping next door to Coulson (the last few weeks they spent on the Bus were rough on Skye; maybe he suspects it and that's why he didn't want to take up residence in the Tower) but she admits she has been needing the proximity. Having a whole floor to herself is a good strategy, but Coulson is another kind of priority altogether.

She falls asleep to the smell of rich leather of the couch.

Then: she sleeps a dreamless sleep and she is not woken in the middle of the night to the sound of something breaking, or the sound of someone else's nightmare.

Then: she wakes up to the smell of fresh coffee and strong aftershave.

It's barely eight o'clock and Coulson is already dressed and clean and ready, of course. Skye believes he might sleep in his suit. She gets slightly self-conscious when he offers her a cup of coffee and she's just in her t-shirt and underwear.

"Uh, thanks." She hides under the blankets.

For a moment there, when he hands her the coffee, she thinks Coulson might have shot a look at her bare legs, then discards the idea, because she is not that self-deluded just yet. Or that self-destructive.

"Get dressed," he says. "Let's go for a walk."

They walk across the park and kill some time inside the Natural History Museum. The day is completely anodine and that suits Skye just fine.

Coulson knows an amazing place for brunch, tiny and half-hidden in a backstreet. He is intensely overdressed for it but that doesn't seem to register with him. They sit side by side on the counter but of course it's nothing like sitting next to Captain America every morning in the Avengers Tower. She tells Coulson about that (she knows he'd be interested in how Steve Rogers looks first hour in the morning) and about Clint's and Natasha's epic battles for the remote control (even though there are like seventeen tv rooms in the Tower) and about Stark phoning her at the most random times (she doesn't tell Coulson _why_ Tony Stark is phoning her, she lets him assume it's just to be a bother).

And Coulson listens to her stories and stares at her like it's not crazy and more than a bit showy of her to be here recounting her exploits with (some of) the Avengers. It's not like that – the whole Avengers thing is a side effect. Skye wants to explain that being here, Thursday brunch with a middle-aged SHIELD bureaucrat, is more like her idea of being _okay_.

"I think you should phone Jemma," Coulson finally tells her when they finish eating.

"I think you are right."

She sighs. Coulson places his hand on the small of her back. It only lasts a moment and Skye takes it for what it is, a gesture of comfort.

All things considered it's a nice day off for Skye, a day to feel – not normal, because she wouldn't want normal anyway, but _possible_.

 

+++

 

The thing is: Steve insists on putting her abilities to test. It's sort of the opposite approach to Clint's. Steve believes in fighting your way through obstacles, because of course he does.

And Stark's idea is great and all but first she has to learn how to properly break things before she can reverse the process and learn not to. So far the breaking stuff accurately hasn't happened yet. Just a series of increasingly powerful miscalculations.

"We're in the middle of a battle and I can't reach my shield," Steve explains today's scenario in the combat rooms.

As scenarios go it's not enticingly complex. Skye finds it unbealievable, on top of that. Why would she be in a battle with Captain America? And if the enemy managed to keep Cap and his shield apart Skye can only assume she has already been killed? No, seriously. What is she doing in a battle with Captain America?

Steve is looking at her impatiently. Sometimes Skye thinks he's the one who can read minds.

"I could be wounded, and I can't reach my shield."

"Is this supposed to motivate me?"

"Don't you want to save my life?" Steve pouts. "I'm a National Treasure."

She tries, she really does. A couple of times it looks like it might work. The shield doesn't end up near Steve, okay, but it doesn't land _far_ either. But trying alone is exhausting – it gets more exhausting the more powerful Skye becomes. And exhausting is frustrating and when she is frustrated...

"Oh shit."

She doesn't mean to be swearing in front of Captain America but even Captain America doesn't seem to be fast enough against a Skye-fueled flying shield knifing the air above their heads. Steve doesn't try to stop her or tell her to calm down – he concentrates on getting hold of dangerous object.

Steve doesn't tell her to calm down but she tries to anyway. That's when everything goes black.

"Hello...?"

Steve's hands are impossibly warm, that's the first thing she thinks about when she comes around; Skye knows there's a scientific, metabolic explanation for that, but she also knows how nice they feel. She's lying on the floor, one of those big, warm hands under her, holding her up.

"What happened?" she asks. She remembers the thing flying across the room but she checks, she's not hurt anywhere. Steve is holding the shield now so she guesses in the end he was fast enough.

"You blacked out," he says. And, because Captain America can smell bullshit miles away: "Now tell me why."

He helps her sit up. He's crouching in front of her and from this angle the costume does look a bit ridiculous. Skye rubs the heel of her hand against her temple.

"I've been having trouble with the aftermath," she explains. "Specially if I try to suppress the ability, if I try to stop whatever is happening."

"Then don't."

"If I don't I'd end up smashing every window in this stupid building."

"That's a problem for Tony and his contractor to worry about, soldier," he says and okay, that extracts a little smile from her. "That's better. Come on."

He helps her to her feet.

"So what do I do now?"

"What do you want to do?" Steve asks.

"Not trying to save your ass from a theoretical mortal peril situation, no."

"Okay. What _else_?"

I want to stop whining, she thinks. _I want my team._

 

+++

 

"...then there was foam all over the lab, every corner of it."

Skye is not quite sure she is following Simmons' story, even though Simmons is kindly using words Skye understands, like "foam" instead of whichever chemical reaction caused it, but the incident sounds uncomfortable

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"No, no, it's a good thing. Without finding the iodine we never would have known the artefact was a fake so quickly, so, ha."

"Am I missing the really fun missions?" Skye asks her.

"You are!"

Skye smiles, hoping Simmons can tell from the quality of her silence. "So how's Fitz?"

"Oh he's driving me crazy. Since Ward took over – _temporarily_ – Fitz thinks he has to be the new Ward. You can imagine. Or rather, no, you _can't_ imagine."

"And how's May?"

"Oh she's driving Ward crazy."

They both laugh.

"We are okay, right? You and me?"

"Okay? Why wouldn't we be okay?" Simmons sounds so completely clueless and loving that Skye just wants to slap herself in the face. She's an idiot, but then again that's pretty much what Coulson was implying when he told her to call Simmons.

 

+++

 

Clint grabs the jug of orange juice and tries to walk straight out of the kitchen, eyes still shut like he's just sleepwalking.

"Hey, hey, _good morning_ , Agent Barton."

Clint turns around, following Steve's voice. He manages to lift the lid on one eye halfway open.

"Oh, yeah, right. Good morning," he half-asses, and walks right out of the door.

Skye laughs. Clint is not a morning person by all means and Steve's rule of all-around politeness in the Tower only irritates him. It's why Steve does it, mostly. At least today Clint didn't reply _fuck it, Cap, it's too early_ like he's been doing the whole week.

"Had a better night last night?" Steve asks her, passing the box of cereal.

Skye nods. They've decided to postpone any training until they can figure out what's wrong with her body, what this gift is doing to her. Steve's policy of _don't fight it_ would be a good one, but that's assuming Skye was fighting it consciously and she isn't. They need a different approach, which means more tests, which means she has to tell Stark, and worse, she has to tell Coulson.

"Can I ask you something?" she says.

"I've already shown you my sketchbook."

"No, it's not that."

Steve sits upright. Or upright _er_.

"Of course."

"You do the _ma'am_ thing on purpose, right?"

"I think it's funny."

"It is. Can I ask you another question?" 

"If you must."

"I've read your file. Many times. And I've seen the photograph, from before you were injected with the serum. You were cute – not that you aren't now and this is a stupid question, because look at you, but: Do you ever miss your old body?"

"Every day." He answers quickly and she didn't think he would; Steve is straightforward but _reserved_.

"Really?"

"I wanted to fight, I wanted to help. The point was not _changing_. I liked the way I looked. It might not make sense to you, or anybody, but that scrawny kid was Steve Rogers in ways that the super soldier can never be. So the answer is yes, Skye, every day I look in the mirror and wonder who is the person staring back at me. But what's done is done. I don't regret my choice, and there's still a fight to be fought."

"I feel more than changed," she tells him after a while. "More than not-myself. I feel dangerous. Am I going to be all right?"

Steve doesn't reply, because Captain America wouldn't lie.

 

+++

 

She comes to pick him up at HQ. She doesn't even need to hack SHIELD herself now, Jarvis can do that for her.

Coulson doesn't even seem annoyed this time, and he still doesn't look surprised. In fact he seems almost glad to see Skye. He's been busy the last couple of days.

"I thought you were in training," he says, innocently.

She doesn't want to have this conversation, which is how most of her conversation with Coulson start. That has to mean something for sure.

"No. We've stopped the sessions."

"I wasn't informed."

"No. I'm sorry. I haven't told anyone yet."

" _Skye_." And yeah, okay, he could extract any amount of information from her when he says her name like that and fuck the truth serum that might or might not exist.

"There's been some developments," she says. Then, with some more effort: "Problems."

"Problems?"

"With me. My problems."

Coulson takes one step back from her, like he suddenly can't stand being that close. "You've been keeping things from me."

"I didn't want you to –"

"That's not how it works, Skye," he says and his voice is horrible.

She's already tired, no, _drained_ , from being on the phone with Stark all morning, answering scaringly precise questions. It doesn't feel like she has any energy left to do this. She shoves her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans, they are shaking. She is not going to cry; she hasn't cried in front of Coulson since she woke up in that hospital bed and _the pain_ came back to her, burning at the back of her throat like vomit, the pain of getting shot and the pain of getting back. Coulson let her cry that day, face hidden into his neck, and even then she knew there was something not entirely right with the shape in which she had come back.

The only person with a bit of common sense in this whole mess would be Nick Fury, whose first instinct was to stick her in the Sandbox. He should have been a bit more firm on the issue.

So she is not going to cry, but she might be looking like she is, because next thing she knows is that Coulson's hand is in her hair, he's running his fingers through it, fingertips pressed softly against the base of her skull.

"Hey, hey," and his voice is horrible in a completely different way.

"I'm okay," she replies. At least she can do that, tell him that. Except: "I need help."

"Everything is going to be all right."

And yeah, okay, that's not exactly – because no _it isn't_ but if there's someone Skye can swallow a lie for that's Phil Coulson.


	4. Bruce

In some respects Doctor Banner is the most helpful of them all.

Skye was not expecting that.

She was also not expecting to meet the Hulk in the middle of the night in the tv room while she is marathoning History Channel's _Ancient Egypt_. Well, not the Hulk per se. Just a guy – a guy with a battered duffel bag and crumpled clothes and tired eyes. It takes Skye a moment to recognize him when he walks in – it's not like they're ever going to do _Bruce Banner_ action figures.

He shoots Skye an inquiring look, then he seems to recognize her as well.

"Oh, yeah, Tony emailed me about you. Skye, right? Your brain does a thing?"

"It definitely does," she replies.

He looks ragged and unruly and Skye feels a strange pang of nostalgia until she realizes he reminds her of one of the bums who were always trying to break into her van. God, she misses her van sometimes. Those days were a struggle but at least they were uncomplicated, pre-meeting-the-Hulk-in-the-middle-of-the-night days.

He sits on the couch next to her, dropping his bag on the floor. He rubs his eyes.

"Where do you come from?" she asks.

"Mmm," he runs his hands over his face a moment, like he has forgotten, or is about to fall asleep. "Abidjan?"

"Long plane ride?"

"Long boat ride."

"Rough." She points at the tv. "Episode three is about to start, if you want. It's good, it's about this guy Psamtik I. I've already seen it."

Bruce looks around. "Is anyone else home?"

"Not so much these days. Right now it's just Steve and Natasha, and me on the guest... uh, floor."

"Good," he says. He stays quiet for a long time after that, staring the tv. He seems comfortable with them not talking. Then, as suddenly as he walked into the room Bruce Banner stands up from the couch. "Hey, I think I'm going to get some rest now. But I'll see you in the morning, Skye. I have your test results and we can get started tomorrow. If you want."

"Get started?" Skye asks. 

"I have a couple of ideas about how we can stabilize your situation. Might even help."

She has been perfectly at ease playing slacker in the Avengers Tower for the last few days.

"Help? Oh, _you are_ the help. Wow. The Hulk is going to help me with my issues."

Bruce looks down to the floor then back at Skye. He smiles wearily. "Not the Hulk. Just me."

Maybe it's late and she is more responsive but Skye just _feels_ it under his words, the shape of his life, the line of scarred tissue where that name used to cut into.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you. I don't know why I said it. It's late, too many pharaohs."

"It's okay," he says. He offers his hand for her to shake. "I'm _Bruce_."

Later, Skye thinks she has imagined the whole thing; some sort of ghost encounter in the middle of the night. But Bruce is there the next morning, cleaned-up and rested and still looking a bit like a bum despite that. He has the air of someone who is about to disappear again at any moment, take the first train out of the city.

But he's there the following morning as well. And the one after that.

 

+++

 

He's a guy, just a guy. 

Bruce calls everybody by their first name, even Steve (except for Coulson, he calls him _Agent Coulson_ and he says how good it is to see him and Skye sometimes forgets that Coulson was dead for a while, dead to most of the world). He keeps his distance, though, Skye wonders if it's because of the Hulk. Nobody around seems to think about it twice but they all let him have his space – even Clint, who never ever lets anyone have any kind of space.

It's a bizarre addition to the team, she can't quite figure out why Bruce might fit so well. Steve seems to like him – and well Steve likes _everyone_ but the ways in which Steve likes everyone differ from person to person. Natasha finds him soothing; Skye has seen them spend a whole afternoon in the same room without having to say a word to each other and without having that seem weird.

And since Bruce is here Stark phones a lot more often, if that's even humanly possible. Skye likes the way Bruce doesn't always pick up the phone.

They really are a team, she realizes for the first time.

It's a bit depressing, because she's away from her own.

When she phones the Bus and gets FitzSimmons thrasing around in the lab Skye can tell they're on a mission. She hates being locked up in New York, unable to do anything for them. Simmons asks if she's seen the Hulk in action already and how exciting unless it's not, unless it's terrifying, Simmons says, and Skye feels weird because Bruce is a guy, just a guy.

"Who cares about the Hulk?" Fitz says into the phone. "Care about _Doctor_ Banner. He's the foremost expert on gamma radiation on the planet, Skye. This vacation is truly wasted on you."

"Fitz... you realize I'm not on vacation. Right?"

There's a moment of silence at the other end of the line.

"Yes, no, I know."

Simmons, in the background, "Oh Fitz."

"What is going on there?" Skye asks. "You sound like there's something going on."

"There's a lot going on!" he replies, and sometimes Fitz sounds exactly like Simmons and Skye can't tell them apart. "See, we found out where the people deflecting Centipede seem to be deflecting to and–"

"Guys, what did I tell you about putting the cutlery right back in the drawers after you've used _and_ washed it?" calls Ward's voice, booming from somewhere outside the lab.

"Oh, shoot, no, no" Fitz says. "We have to go. Bye bye Skye, have fun – or no, get better, or wha- whatever you're doing there. What are you doing there _exactly_?"

He hungs up.

Skye can't believe she's missing Ward's Cutlery Debacle v. 2.0.

Stupid superpowers.

 

+++

 

She and Coulson have a deal. If she says _I need out_ to him Coulson takes her away from the Avengers Tower, no questions asked. He takes her out for a meal, or just a walk, sometimes a quick chat in the cafe around the corner would do. A breather. She sleeps on his couch a couple more times. It's not ideal, it's not exactly what Skye wants – it's not _enough_ , it could never be – but at least she has him in some capacity.

 

+++

 

"Did you have a good night?" Bruce asks in the morning. He doesn't have breakfast with the rest – he takes his black coffee and scurries back to the lab.

"It wasn't the worst of nights?"

He looks tired. More than usual. "I sleep one floor below you. I think you were projecting."

"Projecting?"

"I woke up with this throbbing pain in my temple."

"And you think that's me?"

He shows her the analysis on his table. "Jarvis picked up anomalous brain activity at that time."

There's that word again: anomalous.

"That can be dangerous," she says. It's the gift that keeps on giving, between the telekinesis and the comes-and-goes brand of telepathy there are so many ways Skye can hurt people around her now.

"A little migraine never killed anyone," he says, rolling up his sleeves. He has delicate scientist wrists and Skye might not even know the man very well yet but she suddenly wishes a different life for him.

"You're very chill about this," she points out.

"I've seen what losing control looks like, Skye. Believe me, you are not losing control."

"Feels a lot like it."

"I know it's counterintuitive and we'll work on that too, but you're not going to get anyone killed, you need to realize that. Don't ever tell Tony I've said this but: sometimes strutting is safer than tiptoeing."

She has no idea what that means or why she can't tell Stark but Bruce looks at her like she's the most harmless person he's ever crossed paths with and that's comforting in its own way.

 

+++

 

Steve leaves for a mission in Washington; he leaves the Tower in the unruly hands of Clint and Natasha, the absolute lack of authority of Bruce.

Coulson is there all the time. Ever since Skye confessed she was having trouble with her abilities he has been in true overbearing mother hen mode. Overbearing is a lot better than absent, but overbearing has its own set of problems for Skye. He doesn't know it, of course. Can't know it.

It's the first time Coulson sees her crash and Skye tries to make it seem less painful than it usually is.

Bruce has seen the process a couple of times, he's usually too busy recording her vitals to offer anything in the way of alarm, or comfort. Skye prefers it that way and she suspects Bruce knows this. His bedside manner is unusual, but in this case it's the right one.

Every time she can feel the moment creeping up on her, Skye is always warned but she can never do anything about it. Bruce has insisted on conducting all the experiments inside his lab, which, okay, fuck him, because there's a ton of breakable, very dangerous stuff lying around the place. _That's the point_ , Bruce told her. 

Coulson doesn't seem too bothered by lab equipment getting smashed into pieces. 

It's what comes next that's the problem.

"Skye..." he mutters right after Skye finds herself unable to keep breathing evenly.

He's not helping, not helping at all and whose brilliant idea it was, letting Coulson be a bystander? Oh, right, it was Bruce's.

"It's okay, Agent Coulson," she hears Bruce saying, but it sounds far away and like they're underwater. "She's fine."

It's a weird feeling, Skye is simultaneously getting cold and hot all over her body; her cheeks are cold, color drained from them, but the back of her neck feels too warm, like sudden anger.

Coulson is not one to look on, not like Doctor Banner, and clinically asses the situation. No, Coulson is already there by her side when it looks like Skye might lose balance and fall – she doesn't, but only because she was smart enough to start this near the wall, so she can lean on it.

She closes her eyes for a moment. It kind of helps, so she keeps them closed for more than a moment. When she opens them again there's Coulson, his fingers around the crook of her elbow, the grip something between gentle and _I'm not letting go_. His expression too (a bit diluted after he realizes her eyes are open) falls somewhere between overly-concerned handler and a word Skye is not foolish enough to risk. He's so distracting. She should be focusing on not killing everyone on the building (and that, by the way, includes Phil freaking Coulson) with her mind, she shouldn't be thinking about this right now.

Carefully she frees her arm from his grip, muttering _am okay, okay_ , resting all her weight on the wall and standing up right on her own.

"It's fine, it's fine." She remembers Bruce's binder flying between them. Why did Doctor Banner insist it was perfectly safe to do this in the lab? "Did I hurt...?"

Coulson shakes his head. His hand moves up to Skye's arm again but he stops himself, remembering it was her who wanted to break free of the touch, and his fingers twitch.

"You scared me," he says.

"Yeah, well, join the... it's a pretty large membership by now."

She knows Coulson doesn't mean he was scared for his own safety. She knows he meant she looked like she was going to drop dead.

Bruce is definitely not a member of the club, though.

"Don't worry. You're just having a mild panic attack."

"And I shouldn't worry?"

Bruce's expression is sunny. "When I have a mild panic attack I tend to... break train stations. When you have a panic attack you tend to..."

"Smash Clint's ipod against the wall."

"And give us all headaches for a whole day."

"Sorry about that."

Bruce shakes his head. "I'm going to give you a mild sedative."

"Is that wise?" Coulson asks. His whole body tenses, putting himself between Skye and whatever he thinks Bruce is going to do to her.

"She needs to stop worrying about the aftereffects. We can help artificially, until she relaxes and does it on her own. She needs to know that no matter what the consequences of this won't kill her."

"It's fine," she tells Coulson. "I've discussed it with Bruce. We are doing it his way."

Bruce throws them an understanding look.

"Agent Coulson. Stay with her while I get the drugs?"

Coulson nods, dumb. He seems relieved to be taking orders in this situation – a situation in which he is so over his head.

 

+++

 

Bruce shows her various methods of meditation; that, and the tai chi techniques May taught her, do a lot for her sanity. The slightest illusion of control – even if the only thing Skye learns to control is her breathing.

She stills does May's exercises every morning, tries to find her center every morning. She doesn't always succeed. She doesn't have the temperament for meditation; all her life Skye has been about moving, moving. Running. Running away. She wants to stop doing that, she is not that Skye anymore, but she hasn't developed the muscles for it just yet.

Bruce is there to make her concentrate on the stillness.

"I've picked up some tricks along the way," he says.

"In your journeys?" she teases. Bruce is like a wise (if unkempt) Zen master.

Little by little he gets her to move small things around her.

Skye finds she gets a lot more accurate if she focuses on herself and not the object she is trying to move.

Sometimes Coulson is there with her during these sessions, overbearing mother hen and all. Sometimes Skye has to send him away, he's interfering with her delicate process. It's not his fault, of course.

"You're distracting me," she tells him, which she knows Coulson doesn't understand, but he obeys anyway.

Bruce smiles kindly.

Most of the time, it's working.

 

+++

 

And because it's working and Skye must seem a lot more relaxed these days Natasha takes her aside one day and warns her.

"Be careful around Bruce. It's not his fault but – you should never forget he's not alone in there. I'm serious."

It surprises Skye because from what she's seen Bruce and Natasha seem to get along just fine. Then, when she thinks about Natasha's warning some more, she realizes maybe this is why they get along so well.

 

+++

 

They receive a box of Stark-synthesized medicines.

"Stark Industries has a whole department dedicated to rational drug discovery," Bruce explains. "He said he has the guys working around the clock, trying to do something about your monoamine neurotransmitters when you crash."

Skye winces. She wishes she didn't know so much about her own serotonin levels.

She also wishes she wasn't so uncomfortable with Tony Stark's sudden attack of generosity towards her.

"Why would Stark go to all this trouble?" she asks Bruce. "I thought he thought I was an ass."

"I thought you thought _he_ was an ass."

"Well, I _do_ think he's an ass."

Bruce shrugs, because pretty much there's no humanly possible way of disputing that point, even for one of Tony Stark's closest friends.

 

+++

 

Coulson takes her out of self-defence practice with Clint one morning and Skye knows there's something wrong.

"The team..." she starts. She doesn't need to read minds, she just needs to read Coulson.

"It's fine, they're fine," Coulson starts, before he can explain all the ways in which _it's not fine_.

"It's Simmons and Ward," she says. She can hear it as loud as if he had spoken.

Coulson's face falls. "Don't do that."

"Well, _excuse me_. Are you serious?"

"They have a job to do, just like we have. Don't minimize Ward's and Simmons' efforts. It's not the first time any of us gets hurt. You should know that better than most, Skye."

"Yeah but the difference is," she says between clenched teeth, "this time _we weren't there_."

She wants to be a bit less angry at Coulson, but she can't. There's no more room to be angry at herself so she has to put it somewhere. He just happens to be here, and he happens to be the person who thought it was a good idea to bet on Skye.

"They're in Virginia. They are okay. And the mission was a success," Coulson says like it matters at all.

"I wasn't there. We should have been there. _I_ stopped you from being there. With your team."

"They're okay."

 _No, they're not. Or we wouldn't be having this conversation_.

"Can we go see them?"

"You have work to do here," he says. Not _we_ , he says, you.

"Please, out, I need out."

It's unfair, she knows, because she has always been aware of the lengths to which Coulson would go to avoid saying " _no_ " to her.

They have a deal, so he takes Skye's hand and they walk out of the building.

 

+++

 

In some ways Skye's powers and Bruce's malaise are alike: neither can quite control it and it tends to overcome them at the most unconvenient of times.

"It must suck to live with that inside of you all the time," she says to Bruce one day.

"I bet the Other Guy is thinking it sucks to be inside of me all the time," he replies, like it's not just unfair to him.

She wonders how long it's taken Bruce to become like this. He's a sad man, with a life plagued by things he can't have, can't _ever_ have. But there's a certain calm to the way in which he never avoids responsibility – it's not resignation but something deeper. She admires it and she hopes it never happens to her.

Skye is not like that, suspects she can never be like that. And two days after she comes back from visiting Ward and Simmons in the hospital she has empirical proof of how naive she's been, thinking there could be such a thing as _progress_.

She was right, you can tell Ward she was right, because Skye finds out that indeed you cannot curl up in a ball and run at the same time.

Bruce is massaging his temple.

"Uh, Skye? You are doing it again. You need to–"

But she _can't_. Coulson is grabbing the edge of the desk in obvious discomfort. 

"Shit, shit, no, I'm not doing this. I'm not."

And it's been long enough time since she last lost control like this that Skye has made the mistake of forgetting what it felt like.

She tries to do as Bruce has taught her, with the breathing, and that deep meditation crap. She tries not to think, most of all, about how small Simmons' body looked under hospital sheets and how small her smile looked when Skye came to see her; she tries not to think about the bruise covering half of Ward's face. May's defeated expression. Fitz shivering.

She tries not to think about how she cannot protect a single thing in this world.

Then it stops, because if she is going to lose grip of herself completely at least she can make sure she doesn't kill two people she cares about in the process.

She has to make the choice between running and curling up in a ball – curling up in a ball is a winner every time. She lets herself fall to the floor, shrinking against the wall. She hugs her knees, trying to contain the painful drumming inside her chest. She knows it's over –she knows she _made it stop_ – but her body hasn't received the memo yet.

"Doctor Banner, help me," Coulson pleads, voice small like a little boy, grabbing her elbow.

Bruce comes out from behind the desk. He takes Skye by the other arm and between the two men they are able to sit her on a chair. She is not sure why it's so important to them that she is no longer curled up in a ball – being curled up in a ball feels good.

Now Coulson is holding her head in both his hands, which also feels good in a horrible kind of way.

"You're okay, you're okay, you're okay," he keeps repeating.

He pushes his thumb against her chin, drawing Skye to look up and at him.

"Listen to me. You can do this. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you could do this."

Skye flashes him a sad smile. "I think this is exactly where you would be, even if you didn't think I could do it. _Specially_ if you didn't think I could do it."

There's no way Coulson can argue that, they don't lie to each other, so he just pushes their foreheads together for a moment.

Bruce takes her arm in his hand, injects her with his latest cocktail. It's fast as anything and in a moment Skye feels everything dissolve, everything but the sense of failure. Bruce steps back, giving her some space. She doesn't need space; she twists her hands into Coulson's jacket.

"I'm not this thing," she says into the curve of his neck. "I could hurt anyone like this. I could hurt you. I really, really don't want that."

He runs his hand over her back, breathes into her hair. "I told you, Skye. I'm not going anywhere."

She presses her face against his chest and inhales. The world smells like Coulson for a moment. Everything but that dissolves.

This is the last time I'm this weak, Skye thinks.

And it is.

 

+++

 

Skye guesses she is getting better, a lot better, when Coulson invites her over and there's no expression of permanent uneasiness when she is around his gadget collection.

She is doing better, she must be, because when Steve calls from Washington and inquires if Skye could be cleared for field work Natasha makes a thoughtful face and says _soon_.

(okay, so she doesn't have 100% accuracy like Clint, but hey, Clint doesn't have to do it with his mind)

They are sitting on his couch and Coulson is telling her about the Steineck wristwatch, the hidden camera, 1950s Germany. Skye turns the item in her hand and on top of being a pretty cool spy gadget it's also a beautiful wristwatch. The Manhattan afternoon light bounces off its face, golden. Skye can see herself getting into this collecting thing.

She realizes Coulson is staring at her.

"What?"

"What you can do is amazing," he says.

She looks away; they are sitting a bit too close together and anyway two weeks ago she was a sobbing mess on Doctor Banner's lab floor. Coulson should know, he was there.

"We'll see if I can do it at all," she says.

"No. You can. I've seen you."

"You sound kind of sad about it."

He shifts in his seat, simultaneously drawing away from her and getting closer. "You've always been a hero, Skye. That part doesn't surprise me. But superpowers? It's not sad. I feel _small_."

Skye raises an eyebrow. He has to know, right? There's no way he doesn't know.

"Hero?" she says. "All I wanted was to be more like you."

His eyes narrow, like Skye is speaking a language foreign to him. He must get it, eventually, because his expression becomes soft and open and a bit curious.

Then he leans over and places a light kiss on the top of her head, fingers briefly entangled in Skye's hair. It's friendly, or rather handler-like, and that's okay. It doesn't mean it can't be something else at the same time. Coulson doesn't know, of course. He can't know. But Skye is getting to a point where she imagines being able to someday _tell him_.

That day is not today, and that's okay, too. Skye returns the wristwatch to its glass case and she and Coulson start making plans for dinner. _Enough_ is good, but it doesn't have to be forever.


	5. Thor

They are called in to a SHIELD improvised compound outside the Most Boring Town In America (name redacted to protect the identity of the citizens). Skye had no idea the Most Boring Town In America was in Nevada. She would have never called that one, she likes Nevada.

Skye hears Coulson on the phone, sounding annoyed: "No, everything related to that case falls under our responsibility."

"What's up?" she asks when he hangs up.

Coulson tilts his head, weariness dissolving into a smirk: "Weren't you dying to meet Thor?"

She swears May _glares_ at her when Skye tells her where she's going.

 

+++

 

There's an Asgardian prince two doors down from where they are standing right now and Skye is, surprisingly, not thinking about his arms.

She's thinking about the way Coulson's lips are pursed into a carefully conceiled pained expression. She knows him well enough to know what that expression means, exactly where it comes from.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

"Um."

"You haven't talked to the guy since..."

"Since his brother put a spear through my heart, yes."

She feels a rush of protectiveness, white and sharp and hot like anger, which is not new, but right here, five minutes away from meeting Thor, hits her like like a truck.

"If you feel weird about it, we don't have to do this," she tells Coulson. "Say a word and I'll take you away from here. Screw SHIELD."

"Thanks for the concern, but I'm fine, really."

He doesn't look _fine, really_ so Skye puts one hand on his back to show support. It's awkward. He does the comforting-while-professional thing much better than her. Maybe because Skye is not that invested in professional. She mutters _sorry_ and removes her hand. He glances at her, amused.

 

+++

 

News flash: it turns out that Thor _is_ dreamy. So there's that.

He looks more like a king than a prince, to be honest. There's something regal in the easy calm of his movements. He wears a cape, but not all the time. And for some reason he smells like the best breakfast ever.

He walks in with a couple of astrophysicists in tow (plus an intern, a move Skye does not get at all) – and well, maybe he should have brought some Asgardian warriors with him instead, who knows what kind of mission they're on. Thor's girlfriend Jane talks very fast about things nobody in the room understands, which Skye actually likes. Thor's gang are just so simply human, and that's refreshing, meeting people who don't look like they are going to jugde how much (how little) of her budget Skye dedicates to her wardrobe.

What Thor does is: he looks at you like making your acquiantance is the greatest thing that has ever happened to the world.

And of all the people she's seen Coulson meet for the first _afterlife_ time Thor is the one who looks more relieved than happy. It makes sense.

"Our reunion is most pleasant, _and_ surprising. I thought humans were not meant to come back from the dead."

"We're not _meant_ to."

Skye watches Coulson make that face where the smile is not actually a smile at all and her heart aches and she could just... – before remembering that she too came back from the dead.

They review the situation.

"What kind of people are you letting use the Bifrost these days?" Coulson asks, alarmed.

"These oracles have long been banished from Asgard," Thor explains. "They must have found ways of reaching Midgard from other worlds."

Coulson crosses his arms. "That happens more often than we'd wish it to."

There's a hint of hostility in Thor's stance; like he can't be expected to shoulder the blame for every little Asgardian-born invasion of Earth, specially not now that he is a full citizen here.

"Long ago they used to belong to a group of disciples of the Norns," he is saying. "That's where their powers originate."

Skye doesn't know much Norse mythology but she has heard of this one.

"These people can't predict the future. Can they?"

"Their brand of magic became too dangerous to Asgard; they tried to seize power from the Allfather himself."

"And now they want to restart their little operation right here on Earth?" Coulson asks.

Thor nods. Now he seems mildly mortified; it keeps happening, the bit were old enemies of Asgard show up on Earth, extracting revenge on people who have nothing to do with their grudge in the first place.

"I don't see what that has to do with the Clairvoyant or Centipede or us. Why are _we_ here?" Skye asks. Don't get her wrong, she's elated she gets to meet Thor, but she's wondering if she and Coulson can be of any help in this case. Coulson slants a private, frustrated glance her way. Skye understands immediately: "Now we are thinking the Clairvoyant might be alien? Really? SHIELD actually came up with that?"

He leans over Skye and well into her personal space, pulling up a file in her laptop.

"We don't have enough information to formulate that theory," he says. "What we do know is that members of this group have come in contact with former members of the defunct Centipede."

"They mean to wreck this realm," Thor says, ominously, with that deep voice. "And claim the ashes for themselves."

"That's usually the case," Coulson comments.

Apparently he and Skye are there to consult; that's fair, it's not like they can be an asset in combat if the guy with the biggest arms she's ever seen comes up short.

Speaking of which: when the meeting is done and the situation subdues a bit Skye asks if she can have her picture taken with Thor. The alien seems to relish that idea, flashing the goofiest smile in front of the camera.

"Is this professional?" Coulson asks, tapping his foot against the floor.

"It's _for Agent May_ ," Skye replies, phone out, picture forwarded.

 

+++

 

She tells Simmons about that time Thor mentioned his brother's name and Skye caught Coulson wincing at the sound for a split of a second. She doesn't know why she is telling Simmons this. There are two possible reasons: a) Simmons is kind of her best friend (the only one Skye has ever had, since Jenny Stumper was adopted out of St Agnes when they were both seven); b) Simmons would not understand why Skye is telling her this, exactly.

The only thing Simmons gets out of the story is a renewed dread for the God of Mischief: "But it should be fine, right? Thor's brother is locked up again. Isn't he?"

"Oh, yeah. And as soon as Odin was free again he stripped Loki of his powers."

"How did he do that?" Simmons asks. "Because from what I studied magic is an intrinsic part of Asgardians – and I mean _biologically_."

Skye realizes she really doesn't want to be discussing the dude who killed Coulson.

"I don't know how he did it, he's a god," she says. "You should ask Jane."

"Jane as in Jane Foster, the astrophysicist?"

"That one."

"And here I am stuck in the Bus. I want to have your life, Skye. What does one have to do to have it, exactly?"

Skye thinks _Put up with a lot of crap on the side_ but that's unfair to Simmons.

"Or I could just give you her phone number, geek," she says instead. Although she is not sure if she wants to be the cause of a possible alliance between Jemma Simmons and Jane Foster – she is not sure if the world is yet ready for that.

 

+++

 

"Lady Skye."

"You really do that, uh?"

Thor grins. "Agent Coulson told me you might enjoy such treatment."

 

+++

 

So, the deal is, Skye realizes she and Coulson spend a lot of time together, even for a handler and his superhero-in-training, and they sort of gravitate around each other even more when they are away from their team; for example in the face of two SHIELD squadrons trying to obstruct their investigation because they are not big shots enough. They move like partners.

She is not exactly oblivious about how it all might look from the outside.

But just because she and Coulson spend every moment of their public time in each other's company, and because they make the same sort of (really bad) jokes and because they smile a lot at each other for no good reason and because Coulson is always touching her, little touches, fingers brushing here elbow then and now, and because – 

Well, Thor has no right to draw conclusions.

He definitely has no right to bring the issue up in front of Coulson.

It starts innocently enough; Thor is telling Coulson for the millionth time how glad he is Coulson is alive. They are just killing time before a conference call with HQ and Skye is trying to concentrate on which kind of Poptart Thor smells like today. She can tell Coulson is a bit embarrassed to have the deity fuss over him like this just because he feels guilty. Skye could tell him that's not the case, or at least not the whole story: Thor basically adores Coulson, he thinks Coulson's a swell guy.

"My people have caused a lot of pain for your kind," Thor says, yes, the millionth apology of the day. "I am comforted to see some of the damage was not permanent."

"Well, Mr Odinson, I'm glad we get to spend some time around each other in slightly less dramatic circumstances."

Thor does that thing where his _whole face_ is one big smile. Then he throws a delighted glance in Skye's direction.

"And I'm glad you've found happiness," he tells Coulson.

_Wait._

Skye catches what that means a lot quicker than Coulson, a lot. When he does get it he gives Skye a perplexed look, then stares back at Thor, searching the god's face for any indication of insanity, like he's just said the most fantastical thing.

"What? _Skye_? Oh, no, no. We're not. Why would you say that? No. No. _No_."

"Easy there with the _No_ , sir. A girl might take offense."

Coulson shoots Skye a sideways glance.

Thor looks notably confused. "I apologize, I was mistaken."

But Coulson is set on explaining it some more, no one knows exactly why the hell: "What I mean is, I'm decades older than Skye."

 _Decades_? Really? That's how he chooses to put it? Skye has never felt so mortified.

Thor frowns, slightly affronted. "I'm a thousand years older than Jane Foster."

"But that's not the same," Coulson says, like it should be superbly obvious. Needless to say it's not superbly obvious _to Skye_. What is the difference again?

"Why not?" Thor asks.

"Because you look like... a model. You Asgardians all look like models. You are meant to be the embodiment of godlike beauty."

"I do not understand."

"Let's just drop that," Skye says, as casually as, well, as she _manages_. Fortunately she's a seasoned liar. "The meeting's starting and this is not professional."

"Agreed," Coulson snaps, scowling at her.

 _Yes, because this is my fault_ , she thinks. _Like you are not the jerk in this situation_.

Thor just looks bewildered.

 

+++

 

And that's more or less when Tony Stark arrives. Because Skye's life was lacking in fun, somehow.

She wanders about the compound, refuses to call it wallowing, and breaks into the first van-looking vehicle she finds parked outside. At this hour she would normally be watching Jane and Erik freak over something happening in their laptops or as Darcy calls it, _coffee break_. 

She doesn't feel like being around anybody at the moment so she pulls up the Complete and Unabridged Centipede files in search of any detail she might have overlooked. It's tedious, and thus just the thing Skye needs right now. She has been doing this for twenty minutes, shrinking against the walls of the van, when the door opens and of course it's Tony Stark.

They both jump, startled. Skye realizes why the huge metal cases in the back have _Stark Industries_ stenciled over them. She might have been a bit distracted not to notice before.

"Ah, no, I can't deal with you right now, Stark."

He makes a high-pitched sound. "This is my vehicle, this is where I keep my stuff – all sorts of confidential stuff. How did you get in, anyway?"

"Hacker, remember? And I'm sorry for breaking in, I like dark, closed spaces."

"Still a freak, I see."

She seriously cannot deal with Stark right now. Coulson might be a jerk, but Tony is a dick. (Okay, she knows Coulson is not a jerk, but let her have some kind of mental win; she also realizes Tony Stark might not be dick, maybe, not always, but life is a lot easier when he acts like one)

He climbs in, and fine, it's his vehicle and all but Skye thinks he should have asked first. He looks like he hasn't slept in a week – but he always looks like he hasn't slept in a week. He probably hasn't slept in two. He's wearing a ridiculous leather jacket that looks like it costs more than the Bus itself.

"You look like someone kicked your puppy," he says to her.

"I've never had a puppy."

"The orphan card – _seriously_? That's what you are going with?" He takes the tablet right out of Skye's hands, giving the file approximately two seconds of his time. "What exactly are you doing here?"

She covers the salient points, even though she's pretty sure Stark knows already. "Why are _you_ here?"

"Missed Thor, wanted to see him." Skye can't tell if he is joking or being 100% genuine. "That's what we have here? Asgard's kool-aid kids have something to do with the Clairvoyant?"

"SHIELD thinks that might be where his powers come from, seeing as he's not the only Asgardian we've caught hiding in plain sight here on Earth."

"That would explain things," Stark says, sounding like he has lost interest already.

Skye snorts. "I don't think the Clairvoyant is a real thing. I think he uses something other than psychic powers to convince people he can see the future."

"You are so set on being the only telepath on the block, that's petty, Junior Consultant, didn't know you had it in you."

"Have you talked to Coulson today?"

"No. Why? _Why?_ "

Skye doesn't answer. She has more sense of self-preservation than to talk to Iron Man about this. To her surprise Stark doesn't seem that interested in finding out why she's making such a weird face right now so he leaves her be.

"Hey. How are my miraculous mind-reading drugs coming along?" he asks her.

She looks down, uncomfortable. "Great. Thank you."

"My pleasure. My incredibly expensive pleasure but hey, who's counting."

She lets it pass because he's actually been pretty great about her situation. "Speaking of strange abilities, Thor told me there are people in his realm who can move mountains with their minds, and it wasn't a metaphor because we know Thor doesn't do those."

His eyes go wide. "Wait, what? This is hilarious – you don't think _you_ might be Asgardian, do you."

"No, that's not what I'm saying. _At all_. But it got me thinking. You've read my file. 0-8-4, that's still me. I have no idea where I'm from. The investigation about my parents' identity didn't go anywhere. People have died and killed for the information. At this point I could be an alien just as easily as anything else."

She's not sure why she's telling him this. Except: Tony Stark has helped her before, and if Skye is set on going down that road again, trying to find out more about her family, Tony is probably the person with the resources and inclination to help.

"No, no, look. If you were an alien we'd have noticed. You'd be at least – I don't know, _interesting_. Unless it's a nurture versus nature kind of deal. Told you you should stop hanging out with Phil, boredom is contagious."

Skye grits her teeth. "I can kill you with my mind, you know."

Maybe she _can't_ do that, but she can give him a headache if she wants to. He sits up, excited.

"Hey, let's do the thing. What number am I thinking of now?"

"That's not – I don't do that. For the last time, it's not a party trick, Stark. People shouldn't be prying into other people's minds no matter how tempting it is and how much they they want to know if other people really mean what they say when they say really, _really_ stupid things."

Stark blinks. "It's alarming how much of that sentence I've followed. No, not alarming, the other one; _appalling_.""

"Let me work, okay?"

"It's my vehicle!"

There's a knock and the door slides open.

It's Coulson, of course. No one seems interested in Skye concentrating on her job tonight.

"I figured you'd be here," Coulson tells her, looking around, appraising Stark's set up.

"I'm working," she protests, staring back at the documents on her screen.

Coulson looks at Stark, then back at Skye.

"They need us in the field. We have someone in custody who might know where their secret base is located."

"Don't say secret base," Stark whines. "Say supervillain evil lair."

"Agent Hand is on hold coordinating the back-up team from HQ," Coulson tells Skye. He pauses, pensive. "Sounds like a bigger operation than we thought."

Well, Skye thinks, being invaded by a group of Aesir renegades who can predict the future, would warrant a big operation, or so she hopes. But she's new to this whole being around the Avengers while on a mission thing (all she knows about being around the Avengers is breakfasts and moving heart-to-hearts, the occasional getting your arm poked with a needle by the Hulk) so maybe this kind of danger is reasonably low key. There's a reason why they ended up calling Iron Man, though.

Stark makes a horrified noise.

"Victoria Hand? Ugh, _no_. Seriously, Coulson, since you died – the quality of the minions SHIELD has been sending to keep me on track, I can barely stand it, these _drones_ and I don't use that word lightly – unless Rhodey is present. The only one I like is Hill and that's just cause she wants to punch me in the face."

"I'm sorry my demise inconvenienced you so much, Mr Stark."

 

+++

 

They are keeping the suspect in a safehouse on the edge of town. The edge of Most Boring Town in America, Nevada (name redacted), is even more exciting than the city center. Skye is trying very hard to convince Coulson that _black site_ is not a SHIELD term, just a term.

"Are you okay with this idea?" Coulson asks gently. "You've never interrogated a suspect before."

"I'm better at reading strangers' minds, actually." She notices Coulson's glance. "With people I know a lot of other stuff gets in the way: my own feelings, expectations, too much interference."

"I didn't know that."

She doesn't want to let him think about it for too long. "I'm a bit unclear on whether or not I can read alien minds, though."

"Why don't we find out?"

There's that supportive tone he uses, the one that implies that even if Skye can't use her abilities for the job there are still many things she's good at, things no one else on the team can do. She appreciates it, she doesn't want to be the girl who can levitate blunt objects against targets. She still wants to be the one to crack codes and hack into the enemy's mainframe. It's nice, his faith in her, it always warms her all over, even if she's still a bit pissed at him. Scratch that, _a lot_.

The suspect doesn't look too alien, but then again neither does Thor.

Tony Stark makes the honors.

"Let me introduce myself: I _am_ Iron Man," he says, looking like it's the funniest thing anyone has ever said. The suspect looks on, unimpressed. Stark turns to Skye, who is hiding behind Coulson. "I'm the Consultant. This is Junior Consultant. The name is Skye. No surname, like Seal. Or McLovin. But she can kill you with her mind. So."

Tony Stark looks like he is reenacting a scene from a gangster movie, silently threatening the prisoner with a new pair of cement shoes. Skye wonders why the hell he isn't in his armor suit, when there's a full SHIELD team surrounding the building and looking all jittery.

"I mean we all want to get out of here as soon as possible; enjoy the sophisticated views and world class dining downtown," Stark mocks.

"I heard haute cuisine is a particular hit with the locals, they can't get enough" Coulson adds in perfect synch. Stark's face beams at him for a moment.

Skye thinks she doesn't like Coulson hanging out with Stark too much; he becomes a version of himself she doesn't recognize, an earlier version, she guesses. He slips easily into that persona, all smooth angles and dry humor. He might be cooler this way, but he's already cool in Skye's eyes and she doesn't like this version of _cool_.

Stark touches her elbow. "So – what number is _he_ thinking of now?"

 

+++

 

It turns out she _can_ read alien minds.

(it's not easy, though; it takes as much energy as moving an object would – Skye can normally pick up thoughts without having to _work_ for it; an Asgardian has lived a lot longer than anyone can imagine, there's too much information there, too much experience for Skye to unravel and this one can also see the future so, double it)

Thor seems preoccupied by the idea, and Jane looks like she might want to dissect her. It's not pleasant, specially because Skye already has Simmons for that. At least it looks like the mission is on the right track.

It's fifteen minutes later and she is outside sitting in one of the folding chairs with the SHIELD logo on them ( _is that really necessary?_ she thinks, do they really think another secret government organization is going to break into the place and steal their garden furniture?) and taking a couple of pills for the mini-crash. It's a lot better now, it's almost okay, it doesn't mean it's completely gone.

She puts her head in her hands for a moment. It's nice outside, with the cold breeze and the not-having-alien-guy's-thoughts-in-her-mind.

"Hey are you okay." Skye follows the voice and sees Jane Foster through her fingers. "Thor, come here."

The Asgardian does as instructed and crouches by Skye's side, checking for injuries. Up close his hair looks so pretty and soft.

"Skye, are you feeling unwell?"

"No, guys, I'm fine, I'm fine."

Thor places one hand on her back, stroking like she's a child with fever. Up close he looks ancient and bright and kind.

She's fine, really.

Bruce has been cutting back on her medication in the last couple of months, which means Skye has a couple of days of adapting every time he changes the dosage. It's normally okay, she just stays away from mind-reading and psychokinesis fun while it lasts. But of course today she couldn't do that.

"You don't look so great," Jane says. "Do you want me call Agent Coulson?"

Skye breathes and sits up. The remnants of panic are almost gone by now.

"No, no, believe me, it might not look like it, but this is me getting better."

Jane nods, doesn't press the issue.

Thor keeps running his big, warm hand up and down her back. When Skye looks up at him he grins with pride.

"You are a brave warrior, Lady Skye," he tells her quietly.

See? Thor _is_ dreamy.

"Your boyfriend is amazing," she tells Jane.

Thor turns around, sporting a conceited look of utter glee. Jane raises an eyebrow, but Skye can tell she is mostly agreeing with the assessment.

 

+++

 

"Can we talk?"

"I'm doing stuff," she says. It's technically true.

"Two seconds," Coulson says gently.

"Okay."

She looks up. His face scrunched up with worry.

"You've been acting distant the whole day. What is wrong, Skye?"

So he notices that she's been distant, but he doesn't notice the other thing. That's great.

She realizes it's really, really not his fault and he shouldn't be punished for it. It's mostly embarrassment. She has been ridiculous. She's been idiotic and naive and very unrealistic and okay, she's twenty-five and she wants what she wants, she wants it badly, so maybe it's not her fault either. Girls are delicate like this.

"No, you're okay. It's me. I've been going through some stuff."

The curve of his mouth quirks upwards. "Because you thought you might have been Asgardian?"

"It was just a theory, a wild, wild theory. It was an example. You know what? I'm never talking to Stark again. And anyway I couldn't have been, they all look like models."

Coulson should have missed the edge in her words but he doesn't. "Are you sure you are fine?"

 _You are freaking him out_ , she thinks. She decides to stop, before he realizes he's in charge of _a child_.

She smiles at him, like she has done a million times. This is what they do, they are A.C. and Skye, she has no right to upset a perfect balance like the one they have.

"Yes, handler-mine, don't worry. Okay?"

His features relax a bit. Skye feels unbelievably lousy.

 

+++

 

Global takeover by a cult of prophetic ex-Asgardians is averted for now.

They are not any closer to finding the Clairvoyant's current whereabouts, though that doesn't seem to bother anyone in the compound other than Coulson and herself.

But still: preventing a worldwide invasion by a group of unstable alien messiahs, they are going to put it in the plus column.

Skye has helped, a bit, she guesses; it's not the same as if Captain America was wounded and he couldn't reach his shield. She doesn't feel particularly heroic, unless you consider stopping herself from giving Iron Man lifelong migraines, that indeed required some action-figure-worthy self-control.

Skye spends much of the time she has left on the compound hanging out with Thor and company (avoiding Stark, avoiding Coulson but not so much that he might notice).

She didn't know talking about her past with an alien prince was this easy. Thor even narrows his eyes when she tells him about the role SHIELD played in her unhappy childhood.

They are sitting outside, enjoying the gigantic mugs of coffee the scientists have brought with them. Scientists are kind of the best, Skye decides. 

She tells him about being an object of unidentified origin. 

Thor seems genuinely sympathetic about her plight.

"I myself am still unsure of which is my true path. These matters of identity, they are at times very painful to bear," he says, a shadow staining his usual sunlit voice. "My brother much suffered to them, and made innocent people suffer for them. I daresay you have taken a wiser path."

She grins.

He gives her the bottomless coffee mug as a goodbye present. It's a bit unexpected but then she figures it's an Asgardian costume or something.

"Thank you, Thor."

She almost regrets not telling him about her love life – she bets he's good at giving advice about that, too.

Over the phone Fury tries to convince Thor not to go off the grid this time and Skye thinks good luck, Thor is obviously very committed to enjoying fantastic amounts of sex and food in a tiny flat somewhere in Europe with relative privacy.

When they part ways Jane gives her an awkward scientists-don't-know-how-to-hug and Darcy warns her not to let Coulson _anywhere near your ipod_. Erik is busy asking where his coffee mug disappeared to.

For the first time ever Skye feels a little bit tempted to become an Avenger.

 

+++

 

Stark escorts them to the airbase. Ward and the others are following a lead somewhere in the East Coast and they can't come pick them up.

The base is empty at this hour, cold desert air stinging Skye as Iron Man says his farewells to them both.

"So, should I get started on your file, Agent 084?" he asks her.

She didn't know if he had understood she'd been asking him a favor. She mutters something in the way of thanks and she's almost surprised when Stark doesn't make her say it out loud.

He goes on to shake Coulson's hand.

"Be careful, Agent Phil, if you keep parading Junior Consultant around like this maybe a group of really cool superheroes will take her off your hands."

Coulson is about to chuckle but then he reads the fine print in Tony Stark's expression. "You're not joking."

"Don't tell me – you haven't talked to Fury? He wants to wait until she's completely off meds to see if he can promote her. You must be so proud. The world is in chaos, Coulson, haven't you heard, it's not like the good guys can waste resources on little, irrelevant operations."

"Fine, Stark, if you are done insulting my team."

The other man shrugs and walks away, because yeah, that's a good point in the conversation to say farewell, specially if you have no idea when you are going to see the other person again. Honestly: what is wrong with Iron Man?

And fine, she feels a bit shaky about Coulson right now but this is important, too important.

"He was joking, right? It wasn't a warning of some kind."

"A warning? You should take it as a compliment. That the bosses consider our Bus might be getting too small for your talents."

He says it like it's so fucking rational. Like she should be flattered. He sounds like he would just go to the Hub the next day and request another ex-hacker junior agent for his collection, and who is Skye? Oh yes, didn't we use to know someone with that name?

"But I don't want to –" she looks at his face. He doesn't seem to understand a thing. "Yes, no, it's a compliment."

She has a bad feeling about this. She hopes it's just a feeling-feeling and she's not subsconsciously reading Coulson's own sense of dread.

She hopes it's not a long trip home.

"Don't worry," Coulson says when they are sitting inside the plane. " They haven't given you a superhero name yet, so I think you're stuck with me for now."

His voice is unusually soft, and he didn't say "stuck with _us_ ", which is how Skye knows.

 _He has a bad feeling about this, too_.


	6. Natasha

Let's say once upon a time there was a girl.

No, once upon a time there was an object of unknown origin.

No, once upon a time there was a myth.

"A myth?" Skye asks, when Clint comes back from China and starts spouting this nonensense.

He makes a disparaginly gesture with his hand. "You know how it goes in small communities. Legends and superstitions. There's a myth in the area. Your usual fare: bloodlines and death and destruction. Ancestral forces. Nothing to worry about."

"Death and destruction? That's _me_?"

He gives her a kind look, but it's not patronizing, this is what Clint does best. "Only in theory. Something we picked up. But that's the only thing we could find about you being an 084, even vaguely."

"And the place where I was born?"

"There was nothing there," Clint says. "The village. It was a graveyard."

"So what does it mean? I'm just some myth?"

Afterwards she receives a call from Stark that sounds somehow apologetic (or apologetic _for Stark_ , which would sound just plain aggressive in human-speak) and she guesses that's the end of it, if Iron Man with all his resources can't unearth the secrets of Skye's heritage no one on the planet can. 

Her story is lost forever.

 

+++

 

"I should have been there when they told you," Coulson says on the phone.

"There wasn't much to tell, anyway."

"Still. I would have _wanted_ to be there with you."

He sounds genuinely distressed about it, like somehow he has let her down. Skye wants to ask if he thinks there's some truth to the whole death and destruction thing, but that would probably only make him worry.

"It's okay. You have stuff to do with the team. And I have my own thing."

She can hear FitzSimmons locked in some passionate debate in the background.

"What are you going to do now?" Coulson asks her over their voices.

"There's nothing to do. We have to face the fact that everyone who knows about my origin is dead. Except probably the people who killed my family, but I doubt they will be forthcoming."

"Skye."

"I'm fine, it's not self-pity. I just want to finish with my tests, wait for Agent Romanoff's official evaluation of my capacities, and hope SHIELD lets me go back to the Bus."

She's not so sure the last part is going to be that easy, which is why she understands Coulson's silence at the other end of the line.

 

+++

 

While Coulson is gone –on a mission with the team, on various missions plural, who knows, Skye has the oppresive sensation that he has left her and might never come back; it's an epically stupid notion, she knows this, but that's what it feels like– Skye is convinced Bruce and Natasha are going to file for joint custody. It's nice, because Bruce knows how to manage her moods, and Natasha, being her seemingly indestructible usual self, makes Skye feel a lot less dangerous to be around. And they are two of the quietest, calmest people in the Tower, their combined presence giving her a peace of mind she didn't think she could find in this insane place.

When Coulson leaves her here Skye begins feeling like a teenager in the charge of some distant relatives while her parents go on vacation. Not that she would know what that feels like really. But she's seen the movies. She knows Natasha is meant to be the cool aunt or older cousin or something, if it wasn't for the fact that Skye finds her so utterly terrifying, which is a bit unkind considering Natasha has been nothing but nice and warm and non-lethal with Skye, but there's the contained troubled energy underneath her good nature, there's an edge, sharp and dark, and Skye can't help but pick on that, consciously or otherwise – Bruce doesn't care about that, Skye guesses that well, the Hulk wouldn't, it figures, so everything kind of evens out when the three of them are together; or when suddenly here appears Clint, who _does_ find Natasha terrifying but who likes living on the edge anyway. Skye misses the absent Steve, who is the one usually looking after everybody and making sure they eat or sleep enough, or send their clothes to the laundry.

What Skye is not a big fan of is being alone with Agent Romanoff. Even after all these months. Specially now that she has to decide if Skye is fit for duty or not. There's still something about the woman which unnerves Skye, even if only on a subconscious level. Ever since she stopped taking any drugs for it Skye's sensitivity is a bit all over the place, with all the problems that entails. Someone like Natasha, who keeps everything so close to her chest, represents both a welcome respite and a constant frustration.

Ward jumps at the opportunity to sing Natasha's praises whenever Skye calls him, because Natasha was his direct superior for like three hours on a mission once or something, she was the one who helped polish his Russian.

"Agent Romanoff is a good influence, Skye. Ask her about her spy training. You would make a great spy, if you wanted."

"Thanks."

"We all miss you here," he says, casually, and Skye can't believe none of the others have said it before.

 

+++

 

They have something in common, though: both her and Natasha know what it is to live under a name which is not exactly the one they were born with.

 

+++

 

Of course Centipede is not the only group out there, or the only threat, even during the villain-low season of the year.

She can feel something heavy is coming. She can hear half-hushed conversations around corners. She can see the tactical teams sent by HQ filling up the Tower's conference rooms, briefing Natasha every morning, like in absence of Steve and Stark she's the one ruling the house. Whenever Skye asks what's going on everybody (including Jarvis, which, okay, she's a bit offended) dodges the issue.

One day she walks into the kitchen and finds Clint clasping one hand on Natasha's shoulder for encouragement. For a few moments they don't notice she's there (what kind of spies are they? or maybe they notice and they don't mind?) as they continue their conversation.

"Are you sure about this, Tasha?"

"Don't say it like you think I'm incapable of doing this."

"It's not that. But you as team leader? I pity the poor fools."

"Then help me figure out which fools I want on board."

"Uh, I didn't mean to interrupt," Skye says, insinuating herself behind the fridge. "I just wanted some granola."

Clint waves her in, his expression suggesting he was perfectly aware she has been listening.

"What's up?" she asks, about pretty much the whole scene.

Natasha disentangles herself from Clint's touch. Not looking at Skye: "It's classified."

"I don't like when people say that to me," Skye tells her, but tries to keep it this side of jokey.

"I'm sorry, Skye. Your evaluation will have to wait for a bit."

Skye shrugs at her. "I don't know what is there to evaluate. You know me."

"I don't know you on a mission," Natasha argues. "I don't know you under pressure."

"And you won't. As long as I'm locked up here with nothing to do," Skye sighs. She doesn't really mean it and she knows it's not Natasha's fault, but she doesn't like the fact that her only two options seem to be that she's either sick and needs to be taken care of or she's useless and needs to be kept out of the loop. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that. I know you guys are doing everything you can."

She throws Clint a sideways look that she hopes passes for grateful; he flew around the world for her, and all.

"You don't like being idle," Natasha, a slight smile in her face Skye thinks suits her well. "I can relate. But you are a fully-fledged SHIELD agent now. Your desires and priorities take a backseat."

Clint snickers. "Natasha, don't start with The Talk again, or I'm definitely not going to be part of your elite team."

Natasha ignores him, as usual. She takes out a manila folder and a usb flash drive and places them on the counter in front of Skye.

"Coulson tells me you're good at figuring people out. Here are the mission specs and the personnel files. Find me agents who fit the profile."

Skye takes them, beaming at the opportunity and at Agent Romanoff.

 

+++

 

Before he went away Coulson left her the key to his Manhattan flat, in case Skye ever needs somewhere to break away from the madness of the Avengers Tower. It's such a gesture that Skye, touched as she is, doesn't think she can actually take it, she's sure she won't have to use the key.

But it happens, a couple of times, and perhaps Coulson knows her only too well at this point.

She sleeps on the couch, can't bring herself to use his bed. It would feel like a violation, like she was taking advantage of him somehow. He doesn't feel for her the same she does for him, and Skye can't use his ignorance of her feelings for him as a weapon. On top of everything else she has far too much respect for him as a boss for that.

So she sleeps on his couch and walks through his hallways barefooted. She fills the empty fridge and brushes her fingers over the items in his collection. She smells the air trying to remember his aftershave the few times he let her stay when he was there, how it felt waking up to the scent. It's not anything more than a temporary house and Coulson only spends a couple of weeks or so at the time there but Skye (whose longest relationship with a residence has been her van) wonders what it must be like, to have a place of her own, a place she could fill with things she cares about, and familiar smells, and people she loves.

 

+++

 

Something clicks, and not in a good way, when Skye asks Natasha if she'd let her try and read her mind for a test. They walk into the kitchen, mid-argument (quickly devolving into a fight), where Bruce is eating something healthy-looking from a yellow bowl.

"Bruce told me I should try out my powers now that I'm not taking the drug. Bruce, tell her?"

He stares at the two women with a neutral expression on his face.

"What is going on here?" he asks, cautious, because Bruce is nothing if not.

Natasha ignores his question.

"What I have in my head stays in my head," Natasha warns.

The agent's guarded nature, her spy discipline, would have been a useful challenge to Skye's abilities, she explained that, and thought Natasha would agree.

"I wasn't going to do anything without your permission," Skye says, because somebody has to, because Natasha is looking at her like that was the idea. "But these powers might be the only way of knowing what the hell I'm supposed to be."

She can feel a rush of iciness surging from the woman in front of her, and something like fright underneath. It almost makes her sick. People should be more careful with their emotions until Skye learns how close off her exponentially growing empathic intake. Natasha is glaring at her, which would normally be enough to send anyone running in the opposite direction. Skye is not running in the opposite direction.

"SHIELD is not the place to solve your identity crisis," Natasha says. "You're either on the job or you're not."

"Yeah, what is my job, exactly? Why am I here? Because you're supposed to be evaluating me but I feel like you're just wasting my time."

Natasha is about to say something but then Bruce, who has been watching patiently from his stool, puts his bowl down and cuts in front of Natasha, taking Skye's arm firmly in his hand.

"Skye, let's go for a walk."

She lets Bruce haul her away.

 

+++

 

The Avengers Tower is designed (or rather redesigned, after its first incarnation) to offer enough room its occupants will always find a deserted place to cool down, avoiding uneccessary friction with the rest of the teammates. And Skye appreciates things like the garden on the roof but sometimes you need real, (polluted), New York air so she appreciates it more when Bruce takes both their coats and they start walking in a general downtown direction. It's a bit late, but in a nice way, when the air feels wrought with certain possibilities. It's the weekend and people are spilling into the pavement for a night out in the city – watching them is enough of a distraction that Skye finds her footing and begins to calm down. She remembers being one of those people on the street, and then she remembers that no, she was never one.

They walk a while in silence; Bruce waits for Skye to speak first. He seems a bit cheerful to be out, among people, and sometimes Skye has to actively remember he's not an isolated person by _choice_.

"How could I say those things to – to Agent Romanoff?" She sighs. "That was pretty horrible. Wasn't it?"

"Just a bit," Bruce says, sounding almost amused. Bruce sounds amused about pretty much _everything_. Skye guesses it's his way of coping.

"It's just. She doesn't have to be that much of a hardass all the time."

"Doesn't she?" He says, with a pregnant pause. "Things are changing around here. The first time she's led a big operation, after being, mostly, a footsoldier. That's some pressure. It has nothing to do with you."

"I get that. But I could help, _a lot_ , if she let me."

Bruce smiles. "She should do that, I'm not arguing with you. I think, well, you and Agent Romanoff have a lot in common."

Skye snorts. "That's ridiculous."

"There's a reason she doesn't feel comfortable discussing your issues."

"I've heard some stuff from Barton, some disturbing stuff, but..." Truth is she doesn't know Natasha Romanoff at all.

"She doesn't have a family, either."

Skye gives him a pointed look. "Do _you_?"

Bruce shakes his head, not sadly, but getting Skye's exact meaning.

She thinks about Coulson, the little he's told her about his parents. It's a knee-jerk reaction, can't help it even if she wanted to: Skye has more things in her life, but she always circles back to Coulson. It's kind of pathetic and at the same time it grounds her, just thinking about him gives her world a bit of stability, a bit of sense. She has more people now, but he's the first person who's ever been there for her.

"Maybe all superheroes are orphans," she says.

Bruce agrees in silence, and they start making a turn in their walk, heading back to the Tower and Natasha.

 

+++

 

That night, and it's quite late, she phones Coulson.

"Is everything okay?"

His concern is honest, personal not professional, and warmth spreads quietly through her body.

Yet somehow Skye doubts _I wanted to hear your stupid voice_ is a reason he would accept for calling at this hours.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Everything all right over there?"

"We're doing a good job," he says, cryptically. And he can be quite cryptic when he wants to. She guesses he is trying to take some load off her mind and wouldn't want to distract her with details of the team's struggles. She gets that, because she does the same with him.

"I'm glad to hear that."

"It's quite late over there. Isn't it?"

He doesn't say like an accusation, so Skye doesn't feel like she has to lie.

"I can't sleep."

There's a beat before Coulson replies. "Something I should know about?"

"No, it's nothing like that. It's not that I can't sleep, generally, just tonight."

"What do you need?" he asks gently.

"Sir... Do you mind if we talked for a while?"

"Of course not. What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know. Families."

"Families? Skye..."

"What was your mother like?" she asks, and immediately regrets it. Specially when there's silence on Coulson's end. There are few things he values more than his privacy and that part of his life Skye knows he has under lock and key. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, you don't have to–"

"She was kind," Coulson interrupts her. "That's what I remember. And she was smart. I don't think people knew that, she lived a life of few opportunities – she practically brought me up on her own..."

He goes on talking for a long time.

 

+++

 

The Tower is a buzz of activity, frantic activity, tonight, an air of unmistakable going-on-the-offensive day, and it takes Skye a while to find Natasha among the squads coming in and out of elevators in full gear.

"Natasha..."

She actually finds her in the living room, going over some last-minute mission details, on the couch where they normally watch films on Movie Night. The woman looks up from the papers. Skye doesn't wait for her to ask what's wrong.

"This is going to sound really crazy, and random, but: I have a bad feeling about this mission."

Natasha seizes her up with one glance, like she would do if she was trying to determine an enemy's strength. "Is that... from your abilities?"

"Honestly? I don't know."

Natasha nods, is not exactly unkind when she says: "What do you want me to with this information?"

That's the question Skye has been asking herself, and until she saw Natasha sitting here, she had no clue what she wanted the outcome of the conversation to be. She just knew she had to say something, if there was a chance it could help (or not, maybe she's just making things worse, that's always a possibility).

Now she realizes she wants, needs to do more than just talk.

"Take me with you, on the mission," she tells the agent.

Natasha scowls – she looks remarkably like Steve when she does that.

"You're not cleared for combat."

"I wouldn't have to be. I can run back up."

"We have people for that," Natasha assures her.

"People I helped you pick, believe me I know what I'm talking about. At least you can use someone intercepting their comms. I can help."

"We have hackers."

Skye shakes her head. "Not like me."

Natasha gives her a slight slant of the head, which Skye thinks is appreciate in some measure.

"Suit up."

 

+++

 

The kitchen is so much more comforting than the infirmary. If she had a choice she's rather spend all her recovery time here.

Skye examines her face in the dull reflection of the fridge door. It's better this way – this way she doesn't have to see it properly, the ugly color of the bruises on the left side of her face and along her jaw. It looks like burnt skin; well, it felt like burning, scraping her face against the pavement like that. Not that she regrets it – she regrets not finding out the bad guys had come fully equipped with explosives a bit earlier, so she could have stopped two detonations, instead of just one – because she's pretty sure she saved at least three lives out tonight.

Except for a moment there, after the explosion, before she knew everybody was all right she really did wonder if she was meant to be all death and destruction. In the end nobody from Natasha's team died, and there were only a few injuries very much like Skye's.

She takes out the iciest looking can of drink she can find in the fridge, and the cold feels good against the palm of her hand, the one she tried to stop her fall with and now it's bandaged up to her elbow. The SHIELD medics were exaggerating a bit on that one; she can move it without trouble, even if the scratches make it feel like her skin is about to catch fire. This is not like when she got shot. She spent most of that time unconscious, plus the other weird stuff they did to save her, she didn't really have to deal with licking her wounds like a real agent.

Getting hurt on the job? Not fun, definitely not fun. But at least now Skye knows she can handle it.

She is about to put the cold drink against her cheek when Natasha stops her with on hand on her shoulder. She gives the cuts and bruises all over Skye's face a meticulous glance. When she lets her go Skye is not sure if Natasha considers the damage serious or a simple scratch and she should stop being a baby. She just _considers_ it. Skye is convinced she is going to give her a talking to or yell at her (or murder her and hide her body, because she's the one person Skye believes could get away with it), even though, again, she's pretty sure she saved some lives back there.

"I called Coulson," Natasha tells her simply.

Skye closes her eyes for a moment, trying to stall the epic headache spreading its painful tendrils inside her skull. This time, at least, the headache comes from hitting her head hard against the ground and not from using her powers. That's a bit of good news, finally.

"He's going to kill me," she sighs.

"He was worried."

Skye tilts her head. "He does that a lot."

Natasha sits on the counter, makes Skye sit with her, one hand on her back. 

"Not before," she says. "Coulson used to be different."

"Yeah, everybody keeps saying that. I wouldn't know. Would I?"

Skye knows she sounds a bit snippy but these last few months have been an excercise in letting go of any illusion of ownership over Agent Coulson; she knows it's silly, thinking that he is hers somehow, but talking to all these people who knew him way before Skye did and for much, much longer, if not jealous it makes her a irrationally sad. 

"People keep saying he's gone soft," Natasha continues. "I think that's true. But you know, I don't think it's a bad thing. Soft could be good. Soft is not the same as weak."

Skye involuntarily rubs the back of her hand against the cut across her face.

"Hurts?"

"Well. The world went a bit _boom_ on me," Skye argues, a bit shy about complaining of physical pain in front of Natasha What Is An Extraction Plan? Romanoff.

Natasha arches a recriminating eyebrow. "It did. And don't ever do that again. Not under my command, at least. If I tell you stay in the vehicle you stay in the vehicle or I break your legs."

Skye believes her. She doesn't point out how they'd all be dead without her decision to get out of the car.

"You don't have to worry; I'm in no mood to play kick-the-psychic-can with a detonator ever again."

Natasha grins a genuine grin. It transforms her face and Skye thinks, for the first time, that she is actually relatively young.

"You kicked it very far, though. Right out of that guy's hand."

"Yeah, I know, with my mind, I see where you are going, Agent."

Compliments baffle and delight Skye in equal measure. Natasha doesn't seem to care.

"And you're feeling okay? Bruce told me you didn't seem agitated afterwards, he didn't have to give you anything."

"So what? I'm controlling my powers now? I got lucky tonight, but I know it could have gone the other way. I'm not doubting myself. I know I _will_ be fine, or I wouldn't be here. But not yet. I'm not safe to be around. Yay me, I've learned not to have a total meltdown. In how many months?"

Natasha shrugs, her voice goes quiet. "Do you have any idea how long it was for me, to stop hurting people just because I knew _how to_? You should ask Clint some time, he knows what I've been. Coulson too, he's seen me at my worst. And Bruce, how long it's taken him to be able to be around people. Stark could have become _Iron Man_ decades ago, he had the tech, but he wasn't ready. It's hard to hear but. None of us are safe to be around, not even Steve. There's no shortcut here, Skye. "

Skye swears this is the longest she's heard Natasha talk, which must mean it's something close to her.

She doesn't feel like stating the obvious but: "I am not an Avenger."

"That's just a name for other people to use," Natasha says, like she's actually very tired of the word herself. "I thought you wanted to help."

"I do." Skye sits straight up, to stress the resolve.

"You helped us out tonight. With your abilities – supernatural or otherwise. Why can't you take that home with you?"

Skye smiles. "Thanks, Natasha. I know you've had some rough weeks yourself, and I appreciate it."

Natasha places her hand on Skye's forearm. Skye is pretty sure this is the first time she's ever touch her in a comforting or friendly capacity.

"If you don't know what you are... Maybe that's a chance. Maybe this way you get to decide."

 

+++

 

Two hours later Coulson is in the hallway outside her room, waiting, arms crossed, just as she was going to get some rest. It's him who looks really tired and Skye wonders exactly how fast he had to make the flight to get here so soon. Him being here, it's a surprise and _it isn't_ , really. He looks tired but it doesn't matter, Skye is always happy at the sight of him.

"Natasha called me," he explains.

"I know. She should have told you I'm fine. You didn't have to come."

"I know you're fine. You always are."

His eyes narrow a bit when he examines Skye's face in detail.

"Looks worse than it feels," she says, as light as she can. "Though it feels quite awful."

"I should see the other guy?" he teases, grasping Skye's wrist for a moment to examine the bandages.

"Definitely you should."

Coulson worries, that's what he does.

He touches his fingers to the dark bruise under Skye's chin. It stings for a moment and then the touch, though warm, is soothing, even more so than a can of ice tea. She leans into it without meaning to.

"I should have been here," he tells her.

His voice is quiet but horribly self-recriminating and well, he doesn't deserve to feel like that. Skye wants him to be here, of course, in any capacity, but she hates that he feels everything that happens to her is his responsibility.

"You can't babysit me forever." And it comes out a bit harder than it needs to.

"It's not babysitting," he says breathlessly, shaking his head with weariness.

Skye feels a sharp surge of emotion, like the force of a wave tangling at her feet and knocking her over; she doesn't know if it's her ability, the moment, or her own feelings for the man. Then everything goes very fast: Coulson's arms are around her shoulders, his face is pressed against Skye's neck and she can actually feel his accelerated heartbeat against her body, it feels nice in its solidity, its aliveness. He's holding her tight, a somewhat un-Coulsonesque gesture if she thinks about it. It's not that he hasn't been affectionate before, the intensity of this one embrace surprises her a bit. It doesn't seem like it's entirely about fear for her life, or worry or even relief, because he's been there before and Skye knows how that looks and feels like. But she's done second-guessing, she just wants to hold Coulson back. After a moment she does, closing her eyes, breathing his familiar scent and twisting her fingers into the back of his jacket.

She's _fine_.

 

+++

 

Skye has decided it doesn't matter.

Myth or not. Death or destruction. Superpowers or not.

It doesn't matter.

She's a hero.


	7. Epilogue: Skye

He used to be good at this, at being left behind. Good at staying in the background. He was one among the people who picked the team, made the play, and then stayed at home and waited for the mission reports to arrive and tell him how well it had gone. He used to be good at being middle-range missions, leaving the real the-world-or-nothing threats to people with real power. He used to be good at _patient_ and discrete and detached.

Today he discovers he's not so good at all that anymore.

Or at least not when it comes to Skye. Which, _fine_ , big surprise there, Phil.

He knows how important today was for her, how much she needed to find footing on her own, prove her value to the world. But when the moment came Coulson discovered he was completely unprepared to be left behind, to stay at the Tower and watch possible disaster go down through tv and computer screens, while dozens of other agents buzzed around him.

He knows it's no use trying to persuade Skye not to do the thing she wants to do but more than once this afternoon, watching the mayhem downtown unfold on tv and listening for updates through SHIELD's comms, Coulson wished he had some sort of authority left to dissuade her from running back-up for the Avengers.

He used to be good at letting others take the lead – he used to draw strength from the fact that he was anonymous, and so were his hopes and needs.

When the battle was all but over Coulson knew it would be still some hours until he could see Skye. Since he was more visibly shaken by the events than he cared for other agents to witness he decided to find a quiet corner of the Avengers Tower to pass the time – he knew time would pass slowly indeed.

What he didn't know was that the main kitchen was some sort of Avenger Central; he had meant to be alone until Skye returned.

Thor is the first one off-duty after the mission and the first to disturb him while he sits on the counter with a bottle of water he has yet to open.

"Coul _son_ , I have been looking for you, my friend."

He must have come here straight from debriefing; he has dust in his messy hair and a couple of shallow cuts on his cheek and neck. Coulson feels his stomach drop with panic for a moment, then he reminds himself that if anyone had got hurt he'd have heard about it through the lines. And no, there were no details other than that the mission had been a success but it didn't sound as if it had been a success _despite_.

Thor must have known what he was thinking: "No, have no worries. There were no casualties among our group. And if you had any doubt of it, let me be the first to pass on my congratulations: your ward performed most bravely on this day."

They've come to a point where Coulson has given up trying to explain to him that Skye is not his _ward_ , though it's probably the word that makes the most sense to an Asgardian.

"But I'm afraid the damage to your town has been, once more, unforgivable."

He looks crestfallen.

"That's not your fault. And we're a getting better at cleaning up, leave that part to us."

Now that Thor is here Coulson can't help but steal glances at the door, in case more Avengers (or young, better-be-back-in-one-piece, junior agents) follow. The Asgardian prince smiles kindly at him from his towering height.

"Do not look so troubled, friend. Lady Skye will join you promptly. She's been detained by SHIELD agents inquiring about our battle strategies."

"She's debriefing."

"Yes. The very word I was looking for."

Coulson muses for a moment on what a authentically nice guy Thor is, taking the time to come update him.

"I myself must be returning to where Jane Foster is now," Thor says, in an obvious hurry to take care of his own business, but too polite to desert him. He clasps on hand on Coulson's shoulder. "May I leave you? Shall you be fine until the others come back?"

"Of course. I'll wait. Thanks for the update."

"You are most welcome, Phil Coulson."

And he walks out with a half dignified half self-aware bow, grinning at himself for it – in Coulson's opinion he has spent way too much time on Earth.

 

"Okay," Tony Stark says when he walks into the kitchen, out of his armor except for the left arm piece, which he is trying to pry open with a screwdriver. "For the record, I'm never doing that again – you know what, no, Financial District, next time you're on your own, I don't even care, the architecture is not even – hey, having a good time, Coulson?"

Coulson dangles the bottle of water in front of him. "Pretty good. Waiting for the mission report."

"I can give you the mission report; mission report _What the hell?_ This was a new suit. It was the Mark Really New And Shiny, how dare they."

"It looked quite bad on tv," Coulson says, pointing at the screen next to the fridge.

"Yeah well, some of us have actual jobs, Phil, and by the way you're welcome."

He is not even going to rise to that. He knows Stark hates it when people act impervious to his hostility, nothing frustrates him more.

"It wasn't supposed to be this dangerous," Coulson says. It's not an accusation and Stark doesn't take it like one because at the end of the day Stark is normally the smartest person in the room even when he's also being the stupidest person in the room. He says it a bit surprised and spooked and kind of grateful because the Avengers didn't let it become the disaster it could have been.

"Wasn't supposed to. Which is nice and all but – trying telling that to the latest evil scientist with his evil AIs. Evil AIs are the worst. You're never turning evil on me, are you, Jarvis, sweetheart?"

"I will _try_ not to, sir."

"Shouldn't you get that arm looked at?" Coulson asks.

"I am looking at it."

He stares at Stark's hand, fingertips stained with dried blood, a dark red, precise trace rising from there up his hand and disappearing under the metal alloy carcass, like a grim tattoo. Coulson narrows his eyes at it, kind of fascinated.

Then Stark lets out an endlessly exasperated sigh.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Coulson – stop, stop your face from doing that, it's really very, um – not that your face is ever not annoying but just; okay, Junior Consultant is fine, not even one sorry scratch on her, _there_ , is that better? Will you stop your face now, right now please, I'm trying to get my arm to do a prison break here, I need to concentrate."

And fine, Coulson admits that actually comforts him, because if Stark says it's okay, that means it probably is. He also knows that until he has Skye in front of him and he can see it with his own eyes, he won't be able to really _breathe_.

That's when someone grabs Stark by the back of his shirt, almost throwing him off his seat. 

"What the hell, Banner?"

Bruce Banner is already dragging Stark across the kitchen. He looks dishevelled and raw, wearing clothes which don't exactly fit, but he looks much more relaxed and rested than Stark or Thor.

"Weren't you instructed to come straight to me?" Banner says, holding his prisoner firmly, a tone that reminds Coulson of his old school's nurse more than anything. "If you insist on treating me like your doctor, even though I'm _not that kind of doctor_ , not really, I'm going to have to insist on you following my orders."

"Nice to see you with your pants on again, doc. They said it couldn't be done."

"Shut up, Tony." He spares a glance towards Coulson when they are almost out of the door. "See you later, agent."

 

It's actually Barton and Romanoff (or rather Clint and Natasha) who are able to give him a more accurate account of the afternoon's events. They are, of course, naturally biased in favor of Skye but Coulson mostly believes their version: he can very easily believe the girl is capable of doing the brave and stupid things they said she did. He feels himself almost getting angry at her.

"If there were cameras inside that building, she's going to be a star," Clint says. "Do you have her measurements? We have to get started on the action figures, Coulson, I tell you."

"It was pretty badass," Natasha adds dryly.

Actually, he does worry about the tv cameras; he hasn't even discussed with Skye if she wants the exposure that comes from having front row centre for the strangest show on Earth. Except he guesses she's graduated from front row centre now, and right on to the main stage.

Coulson crosses his arms, amused and somehow touched by their enthusiasm. They too know how important today was for Skye. "I know you are exaggerating but thank you. I'm glad she could be of help to you."

Clint makes a dramatic _listen to me_ gesture.

"Help? I feel like I'm not getting through to you. Captain America was wounded. He couldn't reach his shield. We would have lost a National Treasure. Imagine, Coulson, if it weren't for your girl we would be attending Captain America's funeral." He smiles, a warmer smile than Coulson remembers ever getting from Clint. "Okay, I might be exaggerating a bit here, but I know how you feel about Captain Rogers getting hurt, so it was nice of her, helping him out."

"It was pretty badass," Natasha adds again.

"You must be very proud," Clint says and through the teasing Coulson can see he actually means the words.

No, Coulson wants to say. Pride is for your children, or maybe really smart pets. What he feels right now is _justified_. And a bit sad: Skye is no longer a secret he gets to keep. He always knew that, of course. But still, it was nice while it lasted, when he could look at the rest of the world and think _You people have no idea_ and feel superior for it.

He must be making a strange face because Natasha is looking at him like he's making a _really_ strange face. Sometimes he doesn't miss Agent Romanoff at all.

"Phil, Phil, Phil," she teases, clapping him on the shoulder. She's really horrible, people just don't know how much. "I think it's true what everybody says. You _are_ going through a crisis, no doubt, but I don't think it's a mid life one."

"Oh, I don't know, Tash," Clint chuckles. " _Mid life crisis_ is exactly how I would put it, to its very last detail."

"You don't have to be mean about it," Natasha says, and they spiral into one of their infamous staring contests over the matter.

They are both right, of course. As agents they are that good and they have both known Coulson for a long time. If there is someone who could smell it on him, it's these two. He just doesn't have the emotional stamina to be guarded anymore. Not after a whole year of doing it, for Skye's sake, for his own peace of mind.

Today feels like a kind of ending, and endings are not the place to be lying to yourself.

Also the events of today mean Skye will probably (and very soon) step into a larger life than the one she's shared with him these past months. What he told her still stands – Skye never really needed him, never needed anyone. It has been Coulson's _choice_ and privilege to be there for her. It has been a year full of false starts and complicated detours, late night conversations in hotel rooms and endless plane trips and charged, exhausting phone calls – he has seen Skye stumble and fall, and get up again, he has seen her break and put the pieces back together, she has frustrated him and frightened him, he has comforted her and held her in his arms and he has been completely useless to her just as often, she has been stubborn and he has been inadequate and he was always going to fall in love, of course.

He can't even feel sorry for himself because it was all so damn predictable.

There wasn't a particular moment when he realized what was happening. There were a series of moments. There was that time she stayed the night at his flat for the first time and the sight of her in the morning, on the couch, her naked legs, had inspired a quiet and definitive desire in him. He thought he wouldn't mind Skye filling his mornings, and he wouldn't mind inhabitating a home that smelled like her. It was Skye, there was no way _this_ wouldn't happen to him.

Coulson's never pushed the issue because, well, it would be nothing short of hopeless, it's not like anything could come out it, and Skye doesn't need the extra trouble. It would be selfish.

Barton and Romanoff are still arguing about being mean to people who are obviously old and frail (Coulson tries not to take offense; there was a time these two _respected_ him and followed his every order) when Captain Rogers walks in. To their credit the two master assassins stop talking and straighten their posture on reflex, in deference to their team leader. Coulson enjoys that.

Rogers has peeled off the outer layers of the Captain America uniform but he's still wearing the blue undershirt, torn at the neck. He looks quite roughed up and Coulson wonders if Clint's retelling of their mission wasn't actually fairly accurate. He's holding an ice pack to his shoulder and Natasha is suddenly on her feet, across the kitchen, not-so-carefully handling Rogers' arm and checking the damage herself, like he's just a child who can't be trusted to see to his own injuries.

"It's fine, I'm fine," he says, glancing over Natasha to where Coulson is sitting, with an obvious desire to have a word. But Natasha ignores his protests, keeps prodding at the wound.

"I think you should go see Bruce."

" _Thank you_ , Agent Romanoff," comes Bruce Banner's voice, from the door. He walks towards the group while letting out a huge sigh.

Natasha takes one look at him. "Nice to see you wearing clothes again, Banner."

"If everybody on this team is so bothered by a little nudity maybe you shouldn't have followed me when I was about to de-Hulk."

"We were worried," she says.

"I have no problem whatsoever with nudity," says Clint.

"Fair enough," Captain Rogers tells Banner. Then flashes him a cheeky grin. "But you have to take into account, I'm a simple kid brought up in the thirties. I've never seen _that much_ of a man before."

"Or a woman," Natasha point out. Clint snorts out a laugh.

Coulson feels Rogers would be justified in sending them all back to their rooms without dinner. That's no way of speaking to their leader. Don't they know what Captain America has done for this country? Is there no respect in the world anymore?

Suddenly Coulson gets why Skye would want to spend more time with these absurd people, he understands. He will try not to take it personally.

Banner is rolling his eyes.

"Natasha, please can you haul Steve back to my lab? I wasn't finished with him."

Without missing a beat Natasha starts grabbing Cap's arm forcefully but he stops her with one glance. "In a moment, Doctor Banner. If I could have a minute alone with Agent Coulson..."

The rest of the team nod in his direction and begin extricating themselves from their comfortable positions all over the kitchen. They might joke, but they are obviously an obedient bunch (most of them, it's probably a good thing Stark is not here right now).

Before she leaves Natasha brushes her hand across Coulson's shoulder.

"Don't be a stranger, okay?"

He agrees in silence. Sometimes he misses Agent Romanoff a lot.

Rogers waits until the others have walked out of the room to take a seat on the counter, right next to Coulson.

"I assume my team has already brought you up to speed, but I wanted to make sure you'd have me to answer any questions."

Coulson shakes his head. "Thank you, Captain. But your team has been very thorough in their story. And very entertaining. I'm glad someone from _my team_ was able to give you guys a hand."

There's something defiant in his words, not just possessive, like the Avengers are the underdogs and Coulson's team was magnanimously offering some support. Well, he _does_ believe the Avengers are not quite good enough for Skye, but that's not the kind of thing you can tell Captain America to his face. Specially now that Captain America is looking at Coulson with a glimmer of newfound respect in his eyes. Coulson enjoys the moment – not that long ago he wouldn't have been able to talk to Steve Rogers in this manner. He suspects Rogers likes it better this way.

"All joking aside," Rogers tells him, "it's as you heard. We are soldiers and we have our job to do but out there, that girl saved my life, and I want you to know I'm grateful."

He offers his hand for Coulson to shake. He offers it humbly.

"You're welcome, Captain," he says, shaking his hand. "But I haven't done anything, it's not me who should receive your thanks."

"Believe me, I will offer that gratitude to Skye very soon. I will also be making her a certain offer."

He studies Coulson's face when he says it; the words come out confident but also like Rogers feels the need to apologize to him.

Coulson shakes his head. "That's not my decision to make."

"No. Mine neither."

They stay with their eyes locked for a moment, in a kind of stalemate, until Coulson backs down first. He points at Cap's injury.

"Honestly, you should get that shoulder checked. Before Agent Romanoff decides it's just simpler to tear the whole arm off you."

Rogers looks at him with widened eyes, like the part of his life when he was getting shot at by Nazis wasn't half as daunting as the perspective of _Natasha Romanoff_. He recovers, though, and gives Coulson a look of recognition, decides to take his advice. He stands up to leave the room.

"It's always good to see you, Agent Coulson."

"It's always an honor to see you, sir."

Rogers grins at him properly, suddenly looking so very young.

And then Coulson is alone. Actually and very much alone. The kitchen is too bright and white and he is left behind with a half-empty bottle of water in his hands.

He used to be so good at being left behind.

It's still almost an hour before Skye finds him here.

 

 

+++

 

 

The battle passed in a blur.

The debriefing has taken _hours_.

The subsequent conversation with Steve was extremely short, but emotional.

Yet the adrenaline hasn't subdued. It's a strange energy rolling in her stomach, itching under her feet. It's a powerful feeling. She almost feels arrogant because saving the world and kicking ass side by side with the Avengers? If that doesn't inspire some kind of hubris then nothing ever will. Skye feels like she could do anything right now. And of course if she could do anything, there's only one thing she'd want to do.

"That took a while," Coulson says when she finally finds him in the kitchen. Then, after a moment, just because: "Are you okay?"

She nods. "Not a scratch. But you knew that already."

Even so Skye can feel his gaze checking every inch of exposed skin for wounds.

"I've been updated," he says once he's satisfied she's unscathed.

"Then I don't have to do the play-by-play, thank god. Debriefing has taught me there's only so many ways you can describe Horrifying Murdering Robots before you convince yourself you imagined the whole thing."

They both chuckle, a little stilted. She takes a seat besides him on the counter. She remembers the many happy breakfasts she's had here, with Steve, with Bruce, the rest of the team. She will always value those. But right now she enjoys the simplicity of how much she prefers this, sitting with Coulson, to anything else. She just pretty much saved the world so perhaps it's a good time to tell Coulson that he is her favorite thing about the world. Except not with those exact words, not like that because that is silly. Accurate but silly. She hasn't found the courage to do it properly in a year, but today she has proved (to herself and the world at large) that she has courage to spare. So maybe, just _maybe_.

She notices the bottle of water in his hand.

"Can I? I'm dry from the Debriefing That Wouldn't End."

"Here."

"It's warm, ugh."

"I've been waiting here for a while."

"Again, sorry about that."

He shakes his head. "So? How did it go?"

"I just had a heart-to-heart with Captain America."

He nods. Skye can see him swallow. "I know."

"He asked me if I wanted to stick around for a while. See if there is a job for me in New York."

"What did you tell him?" Coulson asks, like her reply is not obvious and well, maybe it's not obvious to him, but it should be. Steve didn't look surprised at all – he looked like her answer was the one he had expected all along. After all Steve is good at this sort of stuff, he has known this about her for a long time. He also knew that her answer didn't have to do with Coulson, not entirely. There is more to it, there are things Skye wants to do.

"I told him that I thanked him for the offer but that I had a plane to catch, with you," she says and Coulson frowns at her. "Gotta get back to our team, sir."

There's a silence between them. Coulson moves his hand and presses his fingers against Skye's wrist, her hand still holding the bottle. It's the lightest of touches, too light to have a clear meaning.

" _Skye_... Are you sure that's what you want to do?" he asks, so softly.

Her eyes widen for a moment, to make the point. "Extremely sure."

He withdraws the contact but his whole body relaxes, and his expression is suddenly not so sour and doubtful. She's pleased. 

"I'm glad," he tells her and if it were possible (it isn't, because this is Phil Coulson) Skye would swear he sounds _shy_. "I thought I would be losing you to the Avengers for sure."

She draws up her shoulders, looks away then back at Coulson, trying to cover her bafflement; did he really believe she could make any other choice? She's pained by the idea that he was down here waiting, waiting for her to tell him she was leaving him behind. If she knew she would have cleared things up earlier – she didn't mean to cause him any distress.

"The Avengers are cool," she tries to explain as simply as she can. "But no one is quite as cool as A.C."

For that Coulson gives her this extraordinary, tiny, grateful smile that is a bit _too much_ for Skye, _he_ is just too much.

She props herself on the counter, leans into him and grabs his tie, pulling him towards her. She means to do it slowly but with the adrenaline still singing inside of her body and with the horrible (and unfounded, a part of her says) suspicion that she might only get to do this once, she ends up rushing the whole thing. Their mouths connect at a slightly more awkward angle than she had wanted but it's still nice, she still gets to kiss Coulson, which is better than almost anything she can think of right now. It was meant to be kind of epic, a sort of hero-saves-the-day-and-wins-the-girl reverse scenario, even if she doesn't know if Coulson would like to be _won_ at all. Well, it might not be epic, or not as epic as her fantasies, but it's urgent enough to get the point across. He tastes pretty much like he smells, it's something familiar, and because it's familiar it's also incredibly exciting. He opens his mouth slightly, letting her tongue dart in and press against his. Skye is not sure how responsive that gesture is, how telling of what his feelings might be, but for the moment she is happy to explore, not pushing too hard, just enough so that Coulson will know she is serious about this.

When she pulls away to look at his face he is regarding her with an expression of query. He doesn't look angry or disgusted, which is a bonus. He looks genuinely intrigued by her reasons.

"What was that for?"

"It's my reward," Skye tells him. Because it is, among many other things.

" _Reward_?"

"Didn't you hear? I saved the world today. I deserve my reward. In fact this is what I've been thinking about during the whole debriefing."

Coulson's brow furrows, like she's just completely out of her mind. He sits up in his chair, trying to gather his thoughts.

"Let's be clear. You did something incredible today: you helped save this city, probably the world... From what I hear you saved _Captain America's life_... and this, this is your reward?"

"I'm a girl of humble ambitions," she shrugs. Then decides it's time to get serious about it. "You looked surprised."

"I was surprised."

"Well, you shouldn't have been."

Coulson seems to think on that. "No, I guess I shouldn't have."

Suddenly the superhuman confidence which has been carrying Skye this whole time fizzles out. She has to know. He needs to say.

"Is that okay? Do you feel–?"

"I thought you read minds," he says. It sounds only half teasing.

She shakes her head. "This is too important to me, Coulson. You need to tell me."

"It's okay," he says. "After all, we can't let the hero of the hour go without her reward."

He puts his arm around her shoulder, a movie-star gesture for sure, and Skye feels a bit like that, a movie script ending (not forever, at least for today, hopefully a bit longer), when he leans in to kiss her. She swears she is not trying to read his mind, she never does, but there's a single word that keeps pushing past his thoughts, like a word stuck at the tip of his tongue, _home_.

The kiss is very different this time; Coulson presses his fingertips against the back of her neck and deepens it. He kisses kind of dirty, unexpected, intense. Like he has been waiting to do this for a while. That thought translates into warmth pooling in Skye's stomach, her skin itching with something sharper than warmth. She has to pull away, a hand on Coulson's chest, pushing gently. She wants to keep going but it's all a bit too much, too new, Skye has wanted it too badly.

"Wow," she breathes out. Because _wow_ and then some.

Coulson looks thoroughly-kissed and so smug about it.

"Yes."

"That was better than I imagined," she blurts out.

Now he's more curious than smug. "You imagined this? I will want to hear about that."

"And so you shall, in _detail_. But first..."

"First..."

She climbs off her seat. When Coulson gives her a questioning look Skye puts her hand over his on the counter. She entwines her fingers with his and clutches tightly. It feels nice and exhilarating and surreal to think she will be able to do this sort of thing in the future, just because she wants to, just because he wants her to.

He follows her, on his feet as well. The two of them stare down at their hands entangled for a moment, looking a bit confused by the sight. Coulson strokes his thumb across her knuckles as encouragement for them both.

Skye smiles as she starts leading him out of this place.

"First... let's go home."


End file.
